


Il Diavolo Sorriso

by Tristripe



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, M/M, Not Romance, Pirates, Religion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-29
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-13 03:36:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tristripe/pseuds/Tristripe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lovino is trapped by the pirate monster "Carriedo el Diablo" who's smile is just as dangerous as his anger. Despite the horrors that he experiences, Lovino has his own reason to survive, and he will not give up until he finds what he is looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Press-Gang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lovino is rudely awakened and wishes he never woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairings: Spain/S. Italiy(Romano), other pairings will be in the background.
> 
> Warnings: This is not a very nice story. Violence, brutality, and nonconsensual sexual situations. Lots of it. There are religious tones, especially in the first chapters. Read at your discretion.
> 
> Chapter Warning: Brutal violence

  **Il Diavolo Sorriso**  


  
**Chapter One**   
**_Press-Gang_**   


"Of all the piratical crews that were ever heard of, none of the English name came up to this, in barbarity. Their mirth and their anger had much the same effect, for both were usually gratified with cries and groans of their prisoners; so that they almost as often murdered a man from excess of good humour, as out of passion and resentment; and the unfortunate could never be assured of safety from them, for danger lurked in their very smiles." _  
Philip Ashton (on his life with Captain Edward Low's crew)_  


* * *

Lovino dreamed of church bells ringing loud, the knells bouncing off stone walls and sending doves flying into the blue sky. There was warm food, dripping juices, soft breads, and sugary pastries. He stood behind grandfather, bare toes black from soot, staring the man's broad sweaty back as he brought a large hammer down on an anvil. There were sparks that sprang from burning hot metal the color of red, orange, and gold, shining bright like the beaten sun. Feliciano was hanging from the window outside, singing loudly in beat with grandfather's  _bang, bang, bang_.

" _Come on, Lovino! You have such a wonderful voice! Sing with me!"_

He woke to a fist twisting in his shirt, yanking him out of the hammock he slept in that hung against the far inner wall of the ship's kitchen. With a yell the was half asleep, he slammed face first into the floorboards. Mind reeling, and eyes adjusting to the dark, he found that same hand jerking him up to his bare feet. Lovino cried out, and swung his fist at the shadow that was accosted him, his hand meeting flesh, teeth, and spit. He was let go and he stumbled into the large cutting table, clutching it as he squinted, trying to recognize the man who was attacking him.

"Touch me again, fucker, and I'm taking it to the captain," He swore.

The  _Melody_ was not a very large rig, manned only by twenty or so men as they headed south from Nova Scotia. They were a crew of British and Americans; their Captain, a man by the surname Smith, was loud and brash, a combination that Lovino both respected and feared. He was a fair man, but severe to any he thought was shirking on his duties. Lovino himself had been cuffed after oversleeping and not helping the cook prepare the crews meals. One man, during the first days after their departure, was strapped after stealing some coins that belonged to another crewmember. No, their Captain did not take well to dissention on his ship. They were too few, and every man had to be accounted for, even the useless Italian boy.

The attacker lunged for him again, and Lovino ducked under the table, kicking his heels out to trip the man, who fell heavily. It was then that the young man saw the cutlass, its blade shining ominously in the little moonlight that came from the single window in the kitchen. He froze for merely a second, but it proved to be his downfall, for the assailant used it to capture on skinny ankle with both hands and viciously pulled him from the table. Before Lovino had a chance to kick him, a solid fist met his stomach, air whooshing out, and leaving him breathless and limp as he was pulled up by his shirt. Not given a chance to take a breath in, he was backhanded, and would have fallen had his attacker not kept hold of his now torn shirt. When Lovino tried to cry out, his mouth was covered and his voice stifled.

"Resist me again," hissed the man, "and I will gut you like a fish and feed you your own entrails." Lovino froze at the voice, European accented, and through tearing eyes could now make out a bespectacled face of a man who was not part of the Melody's crew. A second later gunshots were heard above deck, and he stiffened in the other's hold, whimpering as the sounds of men's agonized screams came down the passageway where the crew bunked and slept.

It was over quickly, the violent sounds dying out, yet the cries continuing. A trumpet sounded, and Lovino's captor let out a sigh and removed his hand from the boy's mouth. "Let's go," he ordered, and proceeded to drag the other out of the kitchen. Lovino clenched his eyes shut as they stepped over bodies of crewmembers that had even been shot or cut down. Throats were slit and faces were unrecognizable from both knife and musket wounds.

Lovino's feet caught on something and he fell to the floor, his shirt ripping. He had a chance to only look back and nearly lost the contents of his stomach at the sight of the cook he was apprenticing under, a portly man who liked to eat more than cook, sprawled in the corner with his throat slit and stomach ripped open, his innards spilled out. His pigly hands seemed to have frozen in death trying to hold his organs in. Lovino was yanked up by his hair, and this time he was not silenced with he screamed in both terror and agony. The brute pirate holding him had no sympathy for his fears, nor his flailing, simply continuing to drag his acquisition through the inner part of the ship, past the carnage that was continuing to occur as more men were murdered as they tried to flee for their lives. Lovino was finally pulled up to the deck, amazingly this time not stumbling on his useless feet that seemed to have lost all strength.

Dawn was coming, the dark sky turning a deep blue, and clouds turning crimson as if aware of the bloodshed that was occurring. Lovino stared up into the sky, seeing the last star twinkle and die as it was consumed by the light of the sun that was shedding light to the deck. The Italian was dragged onwards to where a score of his crewmates sat bound and under guard by a gaggle of armed pirates. Lovino did not have the heart to look the other men, fear and terror continuing to rip through him as he started to whisper and gasp the Lord's prayers; for there was no way that he would survive this. Grandfather had not survived; slain on a ship very much like this one while hiding his grandsons from harm. Sweet, happy Feliciano had not fared well either, carried away by a raid of pirates in the port of Nova Scotia where the brothers had settled merely a month prior. Whether he lived or continued in servitude with the criminals who press-ganged him was beyond him, but still he prayed for their unfortunate souls. And now, the last of the Vargas men would meet the same fate.

His captor did not bind him like the other men, rather kept a firm grip of the boy's hair, and looping an arm around his neck, not with enough force to choke him but firmly enough to warn of violence if he tried to so much as breath the wrong way. Despite his fear Lovino had to hold himself back from digging his teeth into the devil's arm, for though a coward, he was not one to go down without some resistance. His grandfather had beaten him enough times due to pick pocketing shiny watches and coins, and each time he had cried and writhed and kicked.

"Lovino, I want you to be a good honest man," His grandfather Ramos had said in exacerbation. "Why cannot you be obedient like your brother? You are the oldest and should set an example."

"Feliciano lives to obey you!" Lovino had wailed; snot and tears staining his eyes and cheeks as he clutched a slightly swollen cheek. "You take him with you when you travel and leave me alone to sell the wares. You allow him out into the market for hours and give him coins to spend but you give me NOTHING! How do you want me to be honest, grandpa, when you yourself are not honest in that you favor Feliciano over me!"

It had been an old fight, one that repeated itself over and over again. Lovino loved his family, but he could not stop the bitter taste of jealously as he watched his grandfather swoon over his younger brother. They were twins, and looked mostly alike, but while Lovino was full of the devil's mischief, Feliciano was sweet and smiled, often mistaken for a girl with the way he talked, enjoyed sweets and nice smelling things and smooth clothes that felt like silk on the skin. Lovino was messy and mostly muddy, and often covered in soot from the smithy that he helped his grandfather in. Feliciano was allowed to go to the bakery and watch them make the sweet breads and cakes, and because of his wonderful disposition he was often allowed to take some home. His brother was a glutton, but if he saw Lovino would offer him the last bit. Feliciano showed talent in the arts, Grandfather Ramos spent his coin for paper and ink and colored paints for Feliciano to dabble and draw in. Even Lovino could not say naught of his brother's talents, for he was gifted, and though shined under the wonder that people showed him, he never rubbed it in Lovino's face.

He was jealous of his brother, but he could not find fault with them, and in that he truly loved Feliciano in all his simplicity and genius.

And now, with his proud grandfather Ramos Vargas, and his talented twin brother Felicino Vargas, he would disappear into the dust. However, there would be no one to pray the Lord's prayer and give him a proper burial. There would be no grave, no one to remember that Lovino had been alive once, and no one to see and talk of how he died.

Slowly, Lovino managed to lift his head slightly and looked around the ship. More bodies of his crewmen lay scattered on the deck. The sails had been ripped into shreds, the white fabric flowing eerily in the morning wind. He could see three ships surrounding the Melody, the Jolly Roger raised high with impetuous pride of Lucifer. He squinted at the flags, trying to recognize their marks as he went through the pirates he knew in his head. Mostly Lovino was familiar with the English pirates, however based on the accent of the one holding him he was unsure whether these with British pirates or of some other origins.

He started at the sound of harsh laughter, and he glanced at two pirates that were strolling across the deck arm in arm, completely oblivious to the carnage around them. They stopped in their journey to look upon Lovino and his captor, and the boy felt a shiver run through him as they diverted from their path and came towards him.

"Roderick!" Crowed one of the men, and in the morning dawn light Lovino could not help but gasp at the abomination before him. The speaking man has the palest skin he had ever seen, his hair ash white, lacking any color despite his obvious seamanship. His eyes however were red like the fires of hell, wicked with glee as they darted back and forth to the cowering prisoners and the dead that surrounded them. His companion was of another sort, handsome in the way that he belonged to a renaissance painting; blond hair bound back in a blue ribbon that matched blue eyes that shared the same mirth as the devil's spawn, but with something else altogether that still held a certain menace and danger despite his aestheticism. The bible said that the Devil sometimes took the body of man to deceive him, and here was one who fit the looks and demeanor. Truly both woman and man would happily fall into his arms and deep into sin, just to be in held in his presence.

The White Man broke away and came around to his captor and jostled him, ignoring Lovino's pained gasp as his hair was viciously pulled, and the arm around his neck tightened uncomfortably.

"Roderick, you aristocratic coward, you only managed to get the cabin boy? What, couldn't take on a real man?" The White Man let out horrible cackle and kicked at Lovino's side, making him cry out as agony fired through his ribs.

His captor, the man called Roderick, let out a sigh. "Who is the coward here, Gilbert? The one who managed to capture a man alive or the one who has nothing to show our captain but the bodies of dead men?"

The blond man came up to them now, kneeling down slightlt to look into Lovino's frightened eyes. "A man? More child than man, dear Roderick. Look at the cute fat on his cheeks, just like a babe waiting to latch onto his mother's tits for milk." The man, who spoke with a recognizable French accent, leered and leaned in closer, and Lovino felt himself freeze in horror as the man's hand came up to stroke one blood-stained gloved finger down his cheek. The blood was still wet, and all Lovino could smell the iron stench of man's life, taken away by brutal barbarity.

Roderick made a disgusted sound, and though it pained the Italian, he was grateful when he was pulled away from the sordid touch. "You are a man of wretched diversions, Francis. Keep your perversions to yourself until the captain has a chance to choose what he wants done with the survivors." He paused, the hold on Lovino's hair loosening slightly. "What a miserable catch this time. I saw that the men pulled out only one crate of arms, and nothing else but seeds and grains going to British colonies in the Caribbean. There wasn't even a hint of any silks or clothes that could be made of use."

"Always so arrogant," griped the White Man. "There are men to be had! I lost a good bunch of my crew on the  _Knight_ when we attacked that damn port some weeks ago. I also heard Antonio say he wanted more men for  _The Emma_."

"And yet knowing this you decided to cut down every able man that crossed swords with you," argued Roderick.

"Che," the other scoffed, "I cut down any fool who chooses to resist. The captain is the same, and you know it." He then came forward and pushed the blond Frenchman away, grabbing at Lovino's face and pulling his head up so that the White Man did not have to kneel. "Do you know who our captain is, little potato sprout? Speak up or I will shave off the lard from your fat cheeks."

His tone held such menace that Lovino abruptly shouted out despite the hold on his jaw, "N-No!"

The Frenchman tsked in disappointment and stepped back, letting the devil man full room to press forward in intimidation. "I can tell see that you are no British dog. What are you? Dutch? Swede? Which seed had borne you?"

Despite himself, Lovino felt his face flush red as he stuttered, "I-Italian."

"Your name?"

"Vargas," he shut his eyes to block out the horrid red eyes. "Lovino Vargas." And then suddenly he felt rage build into his stomach, and for lack of self preservation, opened his eyes and looked right at the fiend as he growled out, "And I'm no cabin boy, you son of a whore."

He heard a crewmember to the right gasp in horror, while another one cried out, "God spare you, Lovino, keep your mouth shut and you might survive this!"

By the outraged look in the White Devil's eyes, Lovino was not sure he would survive the next second. His face was let go, but Lovino could not muffle the terrified squeal when the man pulled out his cutlass. "Move aside, Roderick," snarled the white pirate, "or else I might be forced to mar that pretty face of yours when I cut out this cur's tongue."

The arm around Lovino's tightened, and he was forced to shuffle his feet when Roderick stepped back. "Find your own victim, Gilbert," snarled the pirate at his comrade. "If you are want for more bloodshed go find a carcass and cut it up to your likings. I plan to let Captain Carriedo choose this boy's fate. And though you captain one of the ships that is part of this crew, you are not the captain of our  _Armada_."

At the man's words, Lovino felt himself stiffen and sickness spread to his joints and festered in his stomach. He could heel his hands and feet go cold and clammy, and all blood rush from his face leaving him feeling faint.

He recognized the names.

 _The Armada_  was a small fleet of only three ships that was captained by a crazed Spanish seadog. Though only recently becoming known, word of his vicious cruelty that went beyond anything heard of in years sent shivers of fear and terror through anyone who thought of having the unfortunate luck of crossing paths: Captain Carriedo el Diablo. A man of sadistic pleasures, whom survivors said smiled as we watched men burned to the bone.

The blond pirate chuckled, and placed a hand on his white comrade's shoulder, "It seems the boy now knows who we are. Look at how he tries to not wet himself."

True, Lovino wanted to do nothing else but wet his trousers, however having it pointed out sent him into another enraged bout of insanity. Truly, he must have lost all will to live, for he let legs buckle, startling the man holding him, and then sank his teeth into the man's arm.

The pirate yelled, then cursed, letting go of Lovino's hair to swing down at him with a fist, however Lovino was quick in ducking and then kicking out at the man's nether regions. With another cry, this timed pained, the pirate stumbled back, and Lovino lunged at the two startled devils in front of him, knowing full well the White Man merely could swing his sword and sever his head from his shoulders.

He prayed to the Holy Father that he would not feel any pain.

A wall suddenly appeared between the pirates at him, so abruptly that Lovino crashed right into it and sprawled backwards and slamed to the ground. Reeling, he lifted his head up to see what he had collided with and found himself staring right into a pair of wicked green eyes, brown skin, and a grin of a man who seemed to have appeared out of the air.

A man who had gotten in the way of his hopefully swift death.

A man who smiled with the devil in his eyes.

Lovino knew…KNEW who stood before him.

"Carriedo il Diavolo," he said, and watched in frozen awe as the smiling lips spread clear across the man's tanned face. He looked like a loon. He wore deep brown trousers, with a white ruffled blouse that was not tied at the top, its opening dipping low so that one could see contoured ridges of the man's abdomen and chest. He wore a long red coat over his shoulders with gold buttons that lined down the middle, and golden cufflinks on black cuffs. He wore a red had with a ridiculously large white plume that shook and trembled with ever twitch the man made.

"Ah, Italian!" the man exclaimed in false excitement. "And such a little one at that! Yet you were charging at my men so fiercely, and your face was so red it reminded me of a little tomato." Then the man reached forward and grabbed the horrified boy's cheeks and pinched as he laughed, "Look, Gilbert! More tomato than potato, yes?"

Roderick, face slightly flushed in pain, came forward to cut off the White Devil, "Captain," he said a bit tightly. "I found him sleeping in the kitchen."

Captain Carriedo released Lovino's cheeks, switching his hold to one of his arms and pulled the boy up to his feet as he addressed his man. "And the cook? I might fancy a few words with him."

"I killed him before I knew who he was."

"Such a shame," the captain's smile did not falter a moment as he turned to look down at Lovino. The young man felt his whole body break into a cold sweat as green eyes met his once again. "You were in the kitchen," the pirate spoke, "that means you worked there, yes?"

Lovino tried to pull himself back, but the hands on his shoulders tightened painfully. He tore himself away from the man's smiling gaze, and muttered sourly, "So? What if I did? Want me to bake you a cake or something since you seem to be having so much fun?"

There was a deafening silence that followed, in which Lovino felt all eyes trained on him, some in shock, others in horror. Finally, one prisoner started to say the prayer, believing that now Lovino's mouth had cost him his life.

"Can you?" Lovino's head snapped up in shock at Captain Carriedo's question, "Can you bake a cake for me if I ask? I have heard that Italians are second to the French in food, though I myself am partial to my homeland's dishes."

The boy could do nothing but gape up at the man, who was looking away in faraway thought. Quick as a gunshot he placed a hand on the side of Lovino's neck and shoved him firmly to the side where Roderick stood. "I need you to make me something,  _poco de tomate_ , so fetch what you need to boil me something good. I shall provide the meat; you will make me happy, right?"

Lovino sputtered brainlessly, and did not have thought to fight back as the bespectacled pirate took hold of his arm and guided him back towards the lot. "If you value your life, and the lives of your crewman, you will do as the captain says," the man whispered as he ushered Lovino down the steps and pushed him into the kitchen, completely ignoring the bodies that they were forced to scramble over.

"Only a man fucking crazed would think of eating now," Lovino snapped, but did not pause as he swiftly opened the cabinets and pulled out various pots, dropping a bunch in his haste. He filled a bucket with some clean water, and then pulled out some onions and salt and a jar that held mixed spices. His arms full, Lovino found himself standing aimlessly in the kitchen, glancing to and fro, unable to think of anything that might please the mad Spanish captain. "He's going to kill me," he gasped, looking at pirate who stood sentry at the entrance of the kitchen. "He's going to fucking kill me, and you're going to stand there and watch."

Roderick the pirate sighed, walked up to Lovino and took the bucket of water from his shaking hand. He had not noticed that he was trembling, yet there was nothing he could do to stop it. "You will do as the captain asks," spoke Roderick, and Lovino looked up into impassive eyes, now able to recognize the clear Austrian in the man's inflection. "You will make whatever he tells you, and you might have a chance of survival. Otherwise you will be nothing more than one more body added to his belt of victims."

The sun had fully risen when they emerged from below. Lovino could see that there were nearly ten of his crewmen now bound in a single line, with the Captain Carriedo el Diablo pacing back and forth; swinging his plumed hat as if waving the morning heat from his face like a lady of class.

" _Mi Italiano_ , you've finally come to join us! Come and set yourself up right here!" Lovino found himself ushered forward to the center of the gaggle of men. Pirates came forward as well, forming a close circle so all could see what their captain was about with their new acquisitions.

Lovino set up an iron holder, and placed the pot on top of it. Underneath he set up a small iron bowl, where he placed some wood and bits of coal and hay. Striking a flint he quickly set it ablaze and carefully filled the pot with water from the bucket. Furtively, he glanced up at the Spaniard who stood watching him with a pleased look in his wicked eyes, his hands on his hips and feet spread wide in sheer bravado.

Lovino wanted to take the pot of hot water and douse the man with it.

Instead, he muttered lowly, "So, where's the meat you said you had?"

"Eh?" the man looked at him dumbly.

The boy felt his face flush in rage at the look, and shouted, "The meat.  _Carne_. You understand that?"

"Ah yes, thank you for reminding me!" The man snapped his fingers, and three of his men sprang forward, dragging with them a bloodied man. Lovino felt his eyes widen at the sight of Captain Smith, who now was stripped of his coat and belt. His shirt was torn and bloodied, his hair untied and tangled, matted with sweat. Captain Carriedo looked like young haughty prince compared to the Englishman, with his fine clothes and devilish smile as he addressed the prisoners.

"Men of the  _Melody,_ I came here with simple intention: to acquisition your goods if there was any to be had, and to ask for able bodied men to join my merry crew of journeymen. However, though we gave forewarning, you were ordered to resist, and resist us you did. Now you kneel before me as my prisoners." He walked close to the kneeling men, making eye contact with each unfortunate man as if to assure himself that all were listening well to his flamboyant lesson. "First, I will be done with those who I have no use of. All men bound by the lord to a woman shall stand and be taken from this scene. Do so, now."

three men stood, and were quickly pulled from the line and ushered away back into the below deck, most likely taken to the hold. Once they were out of sight, he beckoned for the three that held Captain Smith forward. The Spaniard pulled out a slim dagger, and Lovino did not see the man move, but suddenly he was on the other man, and blood was spilled as Captain Smith let out a horrendous shriek.

And in a moment Carriedo was done with his work, both hands bloodied, and in his right hand he help a mass of flesh that Lovino could not recognize until looked to his captain and saw the man with nothing but torn tissue where his lips once were. The pirate captain then came up to where Lovino knelt next to his now boiling pot, and with grin he said down to the horrified Italian boy, "Now see, I promised you meat." And dropped the two slivers of lips into the pot. They hissed, remaining afloat as the water's color changed to a sickish pink, and then slowly sank.

Lovino felt his stomach heave, and would have lost his meal from the night before right there, but stopped when the devil man stooped right next to him, placing a comforting arm around the boy's trembling shoulders. "You do not look satisfied with what I have given you. Perhaps you are need of some more meat, perhaps enough to fill the pot? The English dog has plenty for me to carve to your liking."

Lovino stared right at the man's smiling face. "You're mad," he whispered, "You cannot have been born a man."

Captain Carriedo's smile dropped a bit at this, pulling back and looking at the boiling pot. "I can assure you that I am fully a man. And yes, I am mad, for your captain has displeased me greatly that I can think of nothing but to feed him his lying lips." He stood, and thankfully walked away from Lovino, returning back to addressing the remaining bound prisoners. "You're proud captain took it upon himself, when we entered his cabin, to dump a box of gold overboard, claiming that he would never let a Spaniard such as me touch English gold. However, what was dumped was  _not_ English but Spanish gold – stolen by an English pirate named Alistair the Red some eight years ago after raiding and murdering the crew. How would this gold come into the possession of a merchant English ship I wonder, rather than be hoarded as booty by the pirates?"

He glanced back at Lovino, who stiffened as he was met by that evil gaze. "Surely you do not expect the food to be tasty if you do not season it." Lovino stared at the man dumbly, and then looked back to his pot. Mechanically, as if he were a puppet being pulled and guided by a master who sat above, he peeled the onion, and thoughtlessly accepted a knife from another pirate so that he could cut it into quarters. He added the salt, followed by the spices and herbs he had brought with him, stomach twisting at the putrid smell wafting up into the morning air.

The pirate captain continued to talk to the prisoners, rationalizing why he was doing what he was, but Lovino did not pay any attention to him. Instead he whispered quietly under his breath, eyes trained to his clenched fists on bent knees, " _Our Father, Who art in heaven hallowed be Thy name…"_  And slowly, without slipping on his our words he recited the prayer, and then lifted his head up and looked to the back of the fiend in disguise of a man, and then quietly said, " _Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me."_ He looked to his crewmates, staring at the man who was playing God with their lives. Their eyes were all dead without any defiance against what their fate held in store for them. He looked to the pirates that surrounded them at all sides, some grinning in anticipation for what was to come, others talking to each other in boredom, while others were looking through the bodies of the dead, stripping them of their clothes and what little treasures they kept on them. The bodies were being piled to one side, and one by one they were lifted like a child's ragged doll by hands and feet and thrown overboard.

" _I will fear no evil, for You are with me_ ," he repeated, louder this time, blunt nails digging into his legs so that he could feel his skin tearing despite the cover of his pants. As the devil Carriedo returned to him, seeming to have finished what he had to say, Lovino forced himself to look the man in the eyes. For though the devil ran through his veins, Carriedo was born from woman, and grew among men. There was nothing to fear, whatever this man did to his living body, his soul would be immortal.

 _I shall not fear you, you fucking devil_ , he vowed to himself.

When the pirate captain smiled at him, Lovino felt something twist in his stomach, and forced his dry lips to move, stretching them into a smirk. He felt a wicked sense of satisfaction at the startled widening of those green eyes, the man surely thinking that he had thought Lovino completely cowed by his barbarity. Without breaking eye contact from the animal, he reached for a wooden ladle and stirred the concoction three times.

"It is ready,  _Carriedo il Diavolo_ ," he said, making sure to show his teeth as he spooned out one of the now white looking severed lips and offered to it to the man. He heard a few of his crewmates gasp at his unfeeling audacity, but paid them no heed, for like him they were all dead on this earth. His only care was to not give this devil man anything of himself that he would savor later.

The stared at each other, Lovino refusing to budge in his impetuousness, and the pirate still smiling but re-assessing the boy he thought as nothing but a little tomato.

Something changed in his eyes then, the green merriment shifting into something dark and ugly, but still holding some mirth. Dark lashes lowered into hoods over emeralds, and it took all of the Italian young man's willpower not to visibly shudder at look he was receiving.

Slowly, as if trying not to startle the boy, Carriedo took the ladle from Lovino's offered hand. Still staring right down at him, the captain brought the ladle under his nose and sniffed, and then with a devilish grin that showed impossibly white teeth, he brought the abomination to his mouth and sipped at it with a loud sickening sound. " _Magnífico, mi italiano,_ " He purred out the words slowly, and so low that Lovino was not sure if the others around them heard.

He could not bear it any longer, casting his eyes downward from the repulsive look. He darted a glance up when he heard the pirate boots walk away from him, and regretted it when Captain Smith let out a garbled screech as Carriedo seized him and brutally shoved the ladle down his disfigured mouth, feeding the man his own flesh. The Spaniard took hold of his head, and kept a hand over the mutilated man, forcing him to chew and swallow.

Lovino's hands came up to his mouth, just as his stomach gave a vicious twist in revulsion at the horrendous sight. One of the bound men bent over and heaved onto the deck, and Lovino could not hold himself back. He grabbed the empty bucket and emptied his stomach loudly. Tears fell from his eyes as he coughed and gagged at the acidic taste in his mouth. He hadn't felt this way since the night Feliciano was taken away. He had curled up on the floor of their home, alone and weeping, throwing up in his grief at everything he had lost.

Using his shirtsleeve, he wiped at his mouth, feeling his body go numb as he looked over his shoulder as Captain Carriedo finally tired of his cruel sport and swiftly slit the man's throat, unflinching as his face and torso got splattered by a gushing of blood. The three pirates who held Captain Smith dragged the limp body and threw him overboard, wiping their sullied hands at a job well done, as if killing was a sport and they had gotten their prize.

Carriedo el Diablo laughed in jubilation, oblivious to the fact that his face was drenched in the slain man's lifeblood. He waved his hands up and addressed the living prisoners. "If you do not want to share the same fate as your captain, I would ask you to please, sign your name on my article, join my  _Armada_  and become one of my crew." The French pirate came up to the prisoners, and one by one, the men were untied and each one was given some ink to write their names down. Some wept as they wrote their lives away on the parchment, others, with stiff jaws scribbled in anger. None refused the paper, willing to go along with the devil rather than suffer a wretched death as their captain.

It was Captain Carriedo who unfurled his article and offered a pen to Lovino. The young man looked at the paper and then up at the man. The pirate was not smiling, eyes dark and dangerous. "So,  _mi Italiano_ , what of you?"

Lovino glared up at the man, gritting his teeth as rage burned at his now empty belly. "You ask as if I have a choice,  _demone_."

"Even  _el Diablo_  gives man choice to follow him."

"You are damning me," Lovino's voice shook.

"We are all damned on this earth." The captain sank to his knees beside Lovino, the blood on the man's face shone bright red, deep crimson staining his white ruffled shirt so that it matched with his red coat and shimmering gold cufflinks. His black plumed hat was askew on his head, making an odd indent into the man's sweaty brow. Carriedo's arm snaked out, wrapping itself like a snake around Lovino's wiry shoulders, and pulling the two closer. Lovino felt his breath leave him as the other's face came closer than what was proper, feeling his eyes nearly bugger out of his head as the man whispered lowly into his ear, "And you,  _joven_ , have damned me with your eyes. How shall I be saved?"

With the devil's whisper blowing poison into his ear, Lovino lifted his hand and ended himself in black ink on pirate paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Initially when I started NaNoWriMo, I was going to have a lot of back and forth between Lovino and Antonio about religion and stuff – especially since Lovino was a god-fearing man (as most men were during that time period). The more I wrote, the more nervous I became, since I never studied Christianity, nor am I incredibly familiar with most theologies. Please keep this in mind, for I do not know if I portrayed Lovino properly in this aspect.
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter. If it tickled your fancy please press that little review button below. Reviews, comments, babbles make a writers world go round!
> 
> And tell me what you think!


	2. The Emma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovino spends his first day press-ganged on a pirate ship. It isn't pleasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Hetalia and all characters are not mine. Languages other than English are curtsey of Google Translate.
> 
> Pairings: Spain/S. Italiy(Romano). Side pairing: Sweden/Finland.
> 
> Warnings: This is not a very nice story. Violence, brutality, and nonconsensual sexual situations. Lots of it. There are religious tones, especially in the first chapters. Read at your discretion.
> 
> Chapter Warning: OCs, violence.

**Il Diavolo Sorriso**

**Chapter Two**

**_The Emma_   
**

"My name is Abel De Kaizer, and I am your Quarter Master! That means that besides the captain, you answer to me! So stop your lily-livered blubbering and open your ears to the words I say, for I am not a man who repeats himself!"

Hands bound behind their backs, Lovino and his crewmates were separated into small groups, taken from the doomed Melody and transported to their assigned ships. Lovino and two of his mates were pulled onto a ship that was attached by metal hooks and rigged planks, and then shoved onto the deck like chastised children. There were five other men that had signed the dreaded pirate articles, all taken like Lovino onto the other ships that comprised of Carriedo's Armada. The few wedded men seemed to have been forgotten locked up somewhere on the Melody.

As pirates scurried about carrying their newly acquired booty, and preparing to set sail again, the captured men were approached by the intimidating Quarter Master. He was a tall man with a scar across his forehead, a whip ready in hands, and a cold sharpness in his eyes as he addressed the newly impressed men. Standing behind him with a bound notebook and feathered ink pen was Roderich, hastily documenting De Kaizer's words.

"You are now part of the Armada," the Quarter Master said, his voice loud and clear, carrying above the ruckus of men around them. "You are to be stationed on this ship, the Emma, captained by Captain Antonio Fernandez Carriedo himself. Remember that name, for he is now your God, and I, Abel De Kaizer am the Angel of Death to all who dare attempt dissent on this ship."

The Emma was a Brigantine, largest ship of the Armada, De Kaizer explained to them. There were over a hundred men on board, and all loyal to their captain. Emma lead the other two ships, the fast Sloop called Knight that sailed to the Emma's right was captained by the albino man Gilbert Beilschmidt. To the left was the Joan of Arc, a Naval Snow that had Francis Bonnefoy commanding it's men. Belschmidt and Bonnefoy were the arms and legs of the Armada, with Carriedo as its head.

The crew that sailed the Emma were a hearty and brutal bunch, Lovino observed silently as the Quarter Master went over the Captain's articles to them to make sure they understood the laws of the ship. All the pirates were tanned and burned from the sun, bodies strong and sweating as they went about their business. He saw a flash of crimson and white plume, following with a heavy gaze as Captain Carriedo snapped at his men while he made his way back to the stern.

"Every man here has their roles to fill, their duties on this ship." Lovino tore his eyes away from the captain and looked back up at De Kaizer. "If you fail in what you are assigned to do, then you shall be punished. This is not a ship that is governed by queen or king or laws of God or man. This is the sea, and the captain and I choose who lives or dies based on how they perform their tasks." He waved his arm forward and placed a hand on Roderich's shoulder. "Roderich Edelstein is the Sailing Master, as well as our bookkeeper. After the captain and me you answer to him. Now speak out your names and state your position and rank on your ship. You, boy…state your name and rank."

The pirate came to loom over the bound Italian, looking down his nose at him. Lovino swallowed under the man's shadow, and stammered, "L-Lovino Vargas. Cook's Assistant and Swab-ber." He hunched his shoulders, dropping his gaze under the man's scrutiny." It felt like the bastard wanted to peel him from his skin!

"Age?"

"S-Seventeen."

"Shit. More boy than man by your look. Sailing experience?"

Slowly, willing his eyes up to meet the man's dark look, Lovino said, "First time serving on a ship…"

A nasty smirk spread across the man's lips. "A babe out to sea, then?"

This rubbed Lovino the wrong way, and he could not help but growl, "I'm Italian, bastard! I've been on our barcas, and sailed to the Americas as a passenger. I know my way around a cazzo barca, but I'm no sailor!"

The man to Lovino's right, an American widower by the name of Thomas Anderson, swore under his breath, and shook his head with eyes shut. Next to Anderson was another American, a young man closer to Lovino's age named Harris White who at the same time dropped his head and tensed up.

Lovino had only a second to realize that perhaps cursing at the Quarter Master was a Bad Idea, before the pirate's leg swung, boot driving right into the center of his stomach with such violence that it drove the young man up and over his back. For a moment, Lovino could neither breathe nor see from the sheer agony of the blow, and then like fire he managed to cough and gasp, feeling blood fill his mouth. Gagging, arms still bound behind his back, he curled up on his knees and spat the red onto the deck, pained tears blinding him as he tried to breathe without his injured stomach and chest muscles.

He did not get much chance to recuperate before a boot pressed down onto the top of his neck, driving his head face-first into the deck and keeping him bowed in place. He let out a whine as his senses were wafted by the foulest stench of wood, dirt, oil, and filth that coated the wood boards of the deck. He had to force himself to breathe through his mouth rather than his nose, or else he feared he would suffocate.

"Stay down, slime," De Kaizer ordered from above him, pressing down and forcing a pained squeal from the young Italian. "I'm guessing by your crewmate's reactions that you have a tendency to run your mouth." The boot and its horrible pressure was removed, and instinctively Lovino lifted his head away from the horrid smell. "I SAID STAY THE FUCK DOWN!" The Quarter Master bellowed so loud that Lovino could feel the roar into his very bones, and with a panicked cry he slammed his head down so hard he nearly stunned himself senseless.

Seeing the young man completely and utterly cowed, the pirate spat down onto the Italian's back. Once he saw that this move did not even earn an extra shudder from the trembling mess before him, he continued, "You will never talk back to me, for you mean less to me that the grime that clings to the sides of the hull. You are here to serve the ship, nothing more but another pair of hands to keep the Emma running. The next time you speak out of turn you will find yourself hanging from the yardarms by your chicken ankles and screaming for mercy as the sun burns the flesh from your bones. Do we have an understanding, Vargas?"

Shaken to his core, Lovino managed to whimper an affirmation that yes, he understood perfectly, and may God strike him mute before his tongue dared to utter a single word to this mad man.

Satisfied, De Kaizer moved on to Anderson and White. Both men stating that they worked the rigs on the Melody, each having years of experience sailing at sea. Anderson had sailed on a Brigantine before, while it was the first time for White. Throughout the interview, Lovino kept his head down, eyes shut and drowning out the noise around him as the pain in his gut became an ache, and his senses became accustomed to the deck. He did not dare even lift his eyes for fear of the Quarter Master's wrath.

Finally, De Kaizer looked over his shoulder to Roderich. The Sailing Master continued writing hastily with a frown knotting his thin brows, his specs slipping down his nose in concentration. "Did you get all that, Edelstein?" the pirate asked.

"Of course," the other said, finishing up and blowing down onto the black ink to dry it. With a nod to his superior, the man who seemed more nobleman than pirate slipped the parchment into a notebook that was hidden in the breast pocket of his coat, and then walked away without a word.

De Kaizer crossed his arms, whip tapping against the upper part of his arm. "Two riggers and a swabber then," he said more to himself as he appraised the men before him for a moment. After a short pause he stepped over them, and with an expert twist of his rough hands, untied Anderson and White and instructed them to stand. Next he reached for the binds on Lovino's numb and scrapped wrists, pulling at them and letting them lose. Before the Italian had a chance to bring his sore hands down, he was kicked on the rump, sending him scrapping onto this belly.

"Don't lay there like a dead fish, Vargas," the pirate sneered. "I might feel pity and throw you back to the salty waters for bigger prey."

With a gasp, he scrambled up to his feet, nearly tripping over himself in haste.

Anderson and White were guided to the main mast, where they were then pulled aside by another pirate and oriented to their new posts on the ship. Lovino stood to the side, keeping his mouth shut, and trying to will himself into invisibility for fear of the Quarter Master lashing out at him again. With his crewmates dealt with, Lovino was then taken to the stern where there was a bucket of dirty water and an even dirtier mop. The scarred man shoved them towards Lovino, who gripped them his arms wide eyed.

"You say you swab, thems' the swabbing tools, yeah?" the man sneered.

Lovino gaped at him.

"SWAB!"

Lovino jumped and dropped the bucket on his foot, spilling foul water over his feet and onto the deck. With a pained cry he dropped the mop and grasped his injured appendage; noticing the absolute loathing in the Quarter Master's sharp eyes. With a bit of a limp, he gathered the bucket and the mop, and began to scrub the deck with a passion stemmed from absolute terror.

De Kaizer watched him for a couple of seconds, and then went about his business, giving Lovino breath of space to calm his nerves. Pausing, Lovino leaned against his mop and allowed himself to pause in his task and actually look around the deck…the full extent of the ship's deck…with a sinking stomach. The Melody was quite small compared to the Emma. Captain Smith had appointed four swabbers to keep the deck clean, so Lovino had never had to scrub and mop anything so massive.

Captain Smith had also cared about cleanliness of the men who served under him. He was a man of privilege, who in turn expected certain luxuries not know by lesser men. Pirates were lesser men, dirty and louse ridden. Lovino shuddered at the sight of their rotted teeth and diseased looking skin. The officers of the ship like De Kaizer and Edelstein were exceptions it seemed to what most of the crew looked like.

Lost in thought, Lovino did not notice a man sliding in beside him before the mop was kicked from his hands and he was shoved down onto the deck with a cry. Stunned, he looked up at the laughing pirate, a skinny dark man with flies buzzing around his filthy head, and lunched up with a snarl, "Try that again, bastard!"

"Hehe," the man cackled through crooked teeth, "Look how he blushes like a virgin maid!"

Lovino swung his fist at the man, who danced to the side and slapped him on the shoulder, his laughter rising and gaining the attention of his pirate comrades. "I'm going to punch you in the ear, shit eating dog!" Lovino howled, once again attempting to silence the man, and merely being flung away like a leaf in the wind.

A crowd began to form around them; about seven men with vicious grins and ugly looks in their eyes formed a tight circle around Lovino and his assaulter so fast that the young man did not realize he was being surrounded. Hands met his arms in mid-swing, and he was shoved into the sweating and unclean chests of another. They did not dawdle in their torment to let him orient himself before he was swung backwards and his feet kicked from beneath him. With a strangled cry he fell onto his side, catching a foot in his stomach that knocked the breath from his lungs.

When Lovino attempted to climb to his feet, he was stamped down viciously by bare heels and boots alike. Foul toes tangled into his hair and scrapped his scalp as one man pressed down on his head, forcing Lovino for the second time that day to come in contact with the deck.

"Ye like that, don'tcha?" The man laughed down at him, his mates hooting. "Ye want'a lick th' deck wich your tongue, don'tcha?"

"The deck or my cock!" Another man crowed loudly, kneeling down next to the young Italian, grinning through blackened teeth and dry split lips.

And another, "Whichever, I wanna see his tongue movin' nice an' sweet!"

Mouth dry, terror-stricken, Lovino from his pinned position could only watch in horror as the man kneeling next to him began to rub at his crotch, making sure that Lovino could see the outline of his manhood that was covered by his stained and worn looking trousers.

"What in God's name is going on here?"

In an instant, the hovering pack of hyenas sprang away from him, and never in his life had Lovino been so thankful to see another man. Abel De Kaizer had his whip held over his shoulder in ready position and a stormy look of barely held rage as approached the group. Freed, Lovino scrambled to his feet, almost thankful enough to hug the Quarter Master's legs in utter relief at being saved. However, just as he stepped forward and opened his mouth to speak, De Kaizer's swung the back of his fist into the side of his head. He was down with a wail of agony.

"Not even ten minutes alone and already the source of trouble!" the pirate officer snarled.

Clutching his head, Lovino cried out in anger, "I was being attacked!" He pushed himself up to his feet, but kept some distance between him and the violent man. "I didn't do anything!"

When the Quarter Master turned his deadly glare towards his men, the pirate who had been fondling himself shrugged and said, "He was standin' there dreamin' like a girl prayin' for big tits. We had to teach him th' meanin' of men's work."

"Men's work?" De Kaizer raised an eyebrow. "You were going to teach your new crewmate the meaning of 'men's work'?"

Lovino did not see it; the pirate moved so fast one second he was standing, the next he was over the other man, beating him with the handle of the whip with vicious swings. The men jumped away, but did not flee as their comrade was beaten bloody to the deck. Once De Kaizer was satisfied, his hand that held the whip bright red with blood, he stood and hollered at them, "Who is the hand that disciplines this crew? Me! No one else! I will not have this ship go down in chaos and dissent like so many other vessels before us! I will whip the skin from your hides before that happens!"

He waved at them to collect their injured friend, and did not bother to see where they took him as he turned back to Lovino. The tall blond pirate took him by the shoulder and shook him so hard that his teeth rattled, "Are you trying to test me?" He hissed poisonously, "Or are you truly a fool who cannot perform a simple task?"

"I swear, I didn't do anything!" Lovino cried; struggling as the pirate began to drag him towards the center of the ship and the main mast. He squealed as he was shoved face first onto the mast. Frightened, he looked over his shoulder at the man.

"Remove your shirt or you will have none left when I am done with you," Ordered the pirate, letting the whip down so its sharp end touched the deck. A couple of men that were working the ropes of the rigging stopped their duties and stepped away in caution. Other men, noticing something was about to happen came closer, grinning in curiosity and cruel sport.

When Lovino did not obey the command, instead staring at him with wide terrified eyes, De Kaizer came forward as if to rip his shirt from him. A man behind crowed in excitement, and called for others to come 'see the show!". Lovino cringed away, and shut his eyes, too frightened to try to flee as he saw a ring of onlookers growing at all sides.

"What is this, Abel?" Came a stern voice from the side.

All heads turned, and men quieted as Captain Carriedo pushed his way into the center of the circle, coming to stand beside the tall Quarter Master. Despite the Spaniard being a good head shorter than the other, the scarred pirate tilted his head in deference.

"He is testing me, Captain," the man said, pointing the whip at the forgotten mop and spilled water. "He fails at the simplest tasks, and has already created tensions with the crew. Better to teach him now what it means to sail on the Emma then to wait for disaster."

Green eyes looked towards him in question, and Lovino felt himself whither underneath that dark gaze. He turned his head away and rested his forehead against the mast, feeling his eyes sting with tears of despair. He was a dead man. He knew it.

His grandfather had looked at him with similar eyes, disappointment and exasperation when such simple duties were failed to be completed. Never Feliciano, who was good at everything that he did, who had grace in his hands, and a dance to his step. Oh, his brother had his clumsy moments, but those were followed with laughter and merriment – not punishment and derision.

Lovino never could say anything to defend himself. He took what came as punishment, rolled his shoulders, and went about to completing his tasks around his grandfather's smith. But this time, there would be no Feliciano to pat him on the back and tell him softly not think bad of their grandfather, that he too had something to be praised. They just had to find what it was.

"Perhaps swabbing the deck is not something he should start with," Captain Carriedo said, and Lovino could not help but glance back at the man in shock. "Roderich found him in the kitchen, so perhaps the kitchen he will stay for now. At least his clumsiness can be contained so that he is not stepping over the men's toes." He looked up at his tall man and laughed, "Perhaps Berwald will do better in keeping an eye on him."

"Berwald is too busy a man to wean this boy from his mother's tits!" Snapped De Kaizer. However, despite his protest he was already rolling up the whip.

"Perhaps," agreed Cariedo. "But the man does have a way with the getting things done, even with the most unruly of the crew."

The scarred man nodded at his captain, and slipped the whip into his belt. With a content look, Carriedo swung his arms and shouted, "There is nothing to see here, mates. Go back to your work unless YOU want to swab my dirty deck?"

Truly, nothing to see. With disappointment, the pirates dispersed.

As the crowd trickled away, De Kaizer sighed and waved his hand impatiently at Lovino. Pushing himself thankfully from the mast, he moved his trembling feel and followed him below deck. Lovino could not look up at the man, too frightened that if he even glanced up the wrong way he would incur the pirate's wrath despite the order from the captain. Feliciano had always been more timid than him, so even after their grandfather had been killed and they found employment, the man their worked with took pity on him. His brother neither glared, nor protested, apologizing profusely and begging for forgiveness and chance to prove his worth if he failed.

Lovino had his sinful pride. He shouted in defiance, and had a temper which was ill-contained. These attributes would be the death of him it seemed if he did not curb them – especially now that he sailed on a pirate ship manned by demons, and captained by a devil, who smiled and laughed as he fed his victims their own cooked flesh.

It was dark below deck. All the portholes were open, allowing sunlight to stream in. They bypasses the lot where the crew slept in hammocks and bedrolls. There were some men sleeping, most likely men who were stationed during the night. The kitchen was in actuality a store room which housed the rum, judging by the barrels and the distinct smell. Lovino did not get a chance to look before he was shoved further in and found himself staring up to a man who could only have been descended from Goliath himself. Impossibly tall, this pirate had a head full of sun-bleached blond hair that was cropped short. Ominous dark blue eyes glared down from behind a thin rim of glasses that perched perfectly on the bridge of his nose. The man stood behind a large table, in one hand a bloodied butcher knife, the other holding down a decapitated chicken.

Lovino covered his mouth and muffled the terrified scream.

"Berwald," De Kaizer announced, "Captain said you keep him here and make use of him." He nudged the whimpering Italian. "We caught him on the ship we attacked this morning."

Berwald, the tree of a man, nodded his head in acquiesce, and remained silent as his comrade turned away and left them. Once alone, the giant grunted and pointed the knife at a small stool in the corner of the room where there were a stack of dirty baskets and cracked pots. Swallowing, Lovino forced his stiffened limbs and went to the stool. He shuddered in absolute fright when the behemoth stepped away from the table with the headless fowl dangling in his hand.

"Sit." the man spoke, his voice deep and gruff sounding, his words slurring as if drunk.

Lovino dropped down to the bench, and gasped when the chicken was dropped into his arms. The young man looked up, cringing as he was completely in the other's massive shadow.

"Name?"

The question came from nowhere, startling the Italian. Swallowing, he answered, "L-Lovino."

"Berwald," the man introduced himself. "Boatswain." He pointed the knife at the dead bird. "Clean it."

Lovino jumped at the command, obediently digging his fingers into and plucking the feathers from the bird's hide. After a moment of watching him, the giant man seemed satisfied and went to bucket and cleaned the knife. He then pulled out a large sack of potatoes and dumped them on the table. Taking one out, the man inspected it, and then turned back to Lovino, who was doing a good job of de-feathering the chicken, and keeping a wary eye at the large pirate.

Lovino paused, unnerved by the man's look. Taking a careful breath, he asked, "You want me to peel them?"

The pirate nodded his head and put the potato back in the sack with its brothers. He then reached for a large belt that had had tools and bags strapped to it, looping it around his trunk-like waist. "The hull was damaged this morning," the man said, his voice low as if he were speaking to himself, "Have to fix it. You clean the bird. Peel and cut the potatoes. I will be back shortly."

"I'll stay here," Lovino said, dropping his head down and staring at lifeless animal in his lap. Some blood from the severed neck had wet his trousers. "I don't want to go up on deck right now."

Berwald suddenly squatted down, startling the Italian with how swift the man moved despite his girth. An impossible large hand sand into Lovino's hair, making him cringe despite the gentleness of the heavy limb. The giant pirate studying his face, his own features cold and stone-like, not even a twitch of his lips, or a flicker of his eyes to divulge his thoughts.

Then, the hand moved from his person, pointing at his cheek. "De Kaizer has a heavy hand."

Lovino looked away, his voice sharp despite how he tried to quiet it, "Your damn crewmates don't pull back their punches."

The man stood, knees cracking. He paused on his way out, glancing over a broad shoulder at the Italian. "I won't be long," he said, and then was gone.

Lovino stared after him, both unnerved and relieved that this was the first man he had met today that had not tried to knock his teeth out. Still, he was a pirate, and who knew what triggered such a man's rage. Lovino shuddered to think about being on the receiving end of the Goliath's ire. His jaw would be knocked clear from it's socket…

…so he had to keep his damn mouth shut.

He was completely covered in white chicken feathers by the time he had pulled the last quill of the bird's tail. Looking around he found a large crate of water, and after tasting it found it salted. He cleaned the chicken, and placed it in a half clean pot. He then found a blunt carving knife and went at the potatoes, peeling them one after another.

Every so often he stilled in his work when men walked by the kitchen entrance. None bothered to look in to see who was making their meal, which was curious. On the Melody the crew always liked to pester the cook and him about what meal they would make. They liked to throw in outrageous demands, some even audaciously giving advice when they themselves could not boil water to make tea. Perhaps the tall pirate was just as intimidating to his crewmates as he was to Lovino…or perhaps there was something else that he should be cautious about around the pirate…

Lovino let out a blood curdling shriek when said pirate suddenly walked through the entrance. So shocked at the giant man's appearance, Lovino's hand slipped and the knife gashed the side of his opposite hand, turning his shriek to a foul worded shout.

Berwald simply blinked at him, seemingly completely unfazed but the young man's cries. He unclasped his belt and let it fall to the floor with a weary bang, rubbing at his back as he came to the other side of the table and picked up on sliced potato.

"You cut well," the man commented.

"You walk like a ghost," Lovino shook his cut hand.

The giant pirate's eyebrow rose slightly, "Wrap your hand. Don't want blood in the captain's meal."

Lovino tore a piece of cloth from the edge of his shirt, glowering, "Wouldn't think he'd notice a bit of blood after the amount he spilled today."

Either the pirate did not care to defend his captain, or did not hear the Italian's spiteful words, for the man went around the kitchen, pulling out salted meat, and more vegetables that would need prepping. He ordered Lovino to clean up the potato peels and chicken feathers that littered the floorboards, and then had him working on scrubbing the dirty pots while he cut the chicken to be made into a stew.

As he scrubbed, Lovino glanced up at the large cook, watching as the man went at the bird, his face blank and once again unreadable. Once he felt like he was being completely ignored, the young man relaxed his tense shoulders and concentrated on his task.

The two barely said a word to each other during the whole time.

The giant man actually knew what he was doing, Lovino was astounded to observe. He carefully, yet swiftly, cut through meat and vegetables. He knew where everything was stored, and stoically worked like a man who was comfortable with what he was doing.

When everything was prepped and ready, the two carried the food up to the deck. Lovino cringed when coming up, but other than bored glances, he was not approached by any pirate as he was lead to the sandbox. There set up their pots and lit a fire with a piece of flint of hay and dry wood chips.

"Meat, potatoes, then vegetables?" Lovino asked the pirate.

"You know to do?" Berwald asked.

Feeling a blush come to his cheeks, he scuffed his foot and said, "I didn't wait on the previous cook for nothing, Lord have mercy on his soul."

The two amicably, if silently, finished cooking the midday meal and then as they added some herbed spices, the smell of the food began to drift with the wind. Men stopped what they were doing, finally taking notice (or perhaps their stomachs reminded them), hastily fetched to their plates and spoons, wanting to be the first to get their meal while it was still hot. Lovino watched in bemused disgust as they pushed and shoved at each other, some knocking their comrades to the ground to be first. Berwald's expression did not change at the least at the sight of this crewmates display. His eyes remained hooded and quiet, slopping up the potato and meat concoction and non-ceremoniously dumping a good ladleful onto their plates.

Lovino sat on a hatch behind the man, boredom itching at him, but happy that he could have a moment without fearfully fulfilling some type of order. He purposely did not meet De Kaizer's glare when the Quarter Master took his meal. The only moment of interest was when he noticed Berwald stiffen up, his large shoulders coming up in agitation.

Tilting to the side to look around the giant wall of a man, one brow came up curiously at the sight of a delicate looking young blond man, smiling jovially up the imposing Boatswain.

"Berwald, your food always tastes so good!" The young man said, brown eyes noticing Lovino and giving the Italian a nod of the head in acknowledgement. "And you now have the help you needed! I told you the Captain would make it happen if you spoke to him."

Berwald nodded his head, muttering lowly, "You were right." The man's look became dangerous as another crewmate behind in the line jostled the small pirate, bellowing about his hunger pains killing him if he did not haul his ass and move.

With a shy grin, the young man left them, spooning his food into his mouth as he walked.

"He is a pirate?" Lovino could not help ask out loud.

"He is Tino," Berwald said. "He is the Master Gunner."

"Gunner? More like a delicate flower!"

"He is my wife," the man turned baleful eyes towards Lovino.

The young man stared at the other, at first sure he had heard wrong. But when Berwald continued to watch him, as if daring him to react, Lovino understood why everyone walked carefully around the giant man. He was a sodomite. Lovino was working beside a sodomite. Lovino was trapped on a ship with a sodomite. As if becoming a pirate wasn't evil enough, but the man had to delve into the most heinous of perversions, craving to lay with another man rather than with a woman

He made sure Berwald's back was turned to him before making the sign of the cross. Harris White and Thomas Anderson came up soon after, each looking haggard and pale but none worse for wear. Lovino exchanged a knowing look of despair with them, each one looking at the other with desperate hope for salvation from this damned ship and its occupants.

But this was not even a full day since their capture…yet already they could not stand it.

Lovino pondered this as he docilely took his meal from Berwald's hand when given to him, and even though the food was good and his mouth salivated at how the salt was just right in the meat without being overpowering, Lovino could not find joy in the meal. Would there come a time when he would not mind being in this sinner's presence? Would he converse with his tormentors, these slayers of innocents, and eat beside them? Would he look to the captain with respect and follow his orders without question?

Today he cooked their meal; what would he be asked of tomorrow?

With an ill feeling in his stomach, Lovino helped Berwald take the pots back below deck. He was told to clean all the wares and start prepping for the evening meal. The man then picked up his belt and disappeared. Once again, the kitchen remained undisturbed, not a single soul stopping to come in and visit. Lovino completed all that was ordered of him unmolested, and found himself aimlessly pacing the kitchen. He was too frightened to step out, sure that if spotted by once of his abusers he would be attacked again and this time would not be lucky enough to be saved by the Quarter Master. However, the place made him uneasy with the knowledge that it was most likely that Berwald was blatant with his perversions, and even if he claimed Tino as his wife, what did the other men think when they saw Lovino with the man?

Lovino sat himself on the stool in the corner and hugged himself. It was then a heavy exhaustion came upon him, and he allowed his head to sink into his arms, shutting his eyes and hoping to get a few moments of sleep.

And sleep he did….only to wake up in the shadow of a glaring Berwald.

Lovino found himself shrieking for the second time to the sight of this man.

"You're loud," complained the pirate.

"Then stop trying to scare the life out of me!" Lovino wheezed, gripping his chest and trying to will his heart to stop trying to shatter his ribs.

Berwald had left him for over four hours. The sun would set soon and they needed to get the evening meal underway. With the food mostly prepped by Lovino it was short order to drench the salted meat in water, and then carry their burdens to the deck. The food was ready when the sky began to darken, a line of hungry and worn pirates already began pushing forward for their turn in getting their supper.

Lovino was about to sit back and let Berwald handle the ladle once again, when Tino appeared, flushed in the cheeks and looking hesitant as he approached two. In his hands he carried a fine looking wooden tray with a pristine white bowl on it.

"Captain said that I should help you serve supper." Nervous brown eyes passed on to Lovino. There was an odd look to him as he said, "Captain said he wants you…to take him his meal in his cabin."

"Why me?" demanded Lovino, feeling troubled, but shielding it with irritation. He did NOT want to see that madman again! He nearly swallowed his tongue when Berwald came to loom over him, the young man having to nearly bend his back to meet the man's face.

A large, impossibly large hand came to completely engulf his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze to remind the Italian of his place. "Do as you're told," the man said gravely.

His hand was heavy, oh so heavy. A reminder of how heavy his crewmate's hands had been to him. When seeing that he had Lovino completely and utterly cowed, he took the tray from Tino and handed it to the defeated young man. With his ladle he then served an extremely large helping onto the plate.

Lovino watched this numbly, staring down as the heat of the freshly cooked meal hit his face.

He should be hungry, but he could not bring himself to even lick his lips.

Tino waved at him to follow, and he did, not glancing up at the giant Boatswain, nor at the men who ignored his departure in favor for food. He was careful not to tray, not wanting any excuse to be punished. Who knew what angered such a man as Carriedo el Diablo. He followed the blond pirate across the deck and back towards the stern, where the captain's quarters were housed . As they approached the closed door, Lovino's stomach sank with dread, and he felt himself begin to perspire.

He did not want to be here. He did not want to see this man. He wanted nothing more than to fling himself overboard and try to swim himself into oblivion.

But Lovino could not even whisper out his defiance.

When Tino knocked on the door, a muffled voice told them to enter. Tino pulled the door open, and canted his head at Lovino to go in first.

With heavy, deadened steps, Lovino crossed the threshold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here are some notes that I thought would interest you guys:
> 
> Abel De Kaizer: Netherlands for those who did not figure it out. From his few seconds of screen time in World Series, I got the feeling that 1) He loved his sister Belgium. 2) He hated Spain. 3) He was a man of strict principles.
> 
> Role of the Quarter Master: They are the second-in-command. Most ships had them elected because they did not want the Captain to have sole authority. They maintained order among the crew, and were the only ones who could delve out punishment and discipline. Personally, I think they had one of the hardest roles on the ship, because they basically dealt with all the shit on the ship, while the Captain got all the glory and notoriety!
> 
> Role of the Sailing Master: They were the ones in charge of navigation – sailing the ship in the right direction – and keeping track of the maps and compasses. They were usually educated men, and often kidnapped from other ships and press-ganged into one can ever say that Austria is NOT educated!
> 
> Role of the Boatswain: Maintenance and repair they were in charge of other men, to also take care of morale on the ship. I decided to fuse Berwald's position with the Carpenter who also was in charge of repairing the ship when things broke. Ships would sink if not for these guys!
> 
> Regarding Doctors and Cooks:There weren't any real cooks on board…or even doctors. Pirates figured that if a man can cook, then he can figure out how to stich a man together and cure him of a fever. Lots of times the Carpenters took the roles as doctors and/or cooks. If you can fix a boat, why not a man? Or my meal! They did the actual cooking up on deck in a sandbox so as not to burn a hole in the ship.
> 
> Role of the Master Gunner: Usually gunners oversaw a small group of men who maintained the firearms. Guns were an asset and were not treated lightly. It was life or death if the gun was faulty or the aim was off. The Master Gunner also helped in organizing attacks and boarding's
> 
> My one and only request is to know what you guys think! I would love to know what you thought of chapter 2!
> 
> Tri


	3. Rescue Me From Evil, Protect Me From Cruel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovino discovers the true nature of Captain Carriedo's interest in him. It is not a pleasant experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Hetalia and all characters are not mine. Languages other than English are curtsey of Google Translate.
> 
> Pairings: Spain/S. Italiy(Romano), Sweden/Finland.
> 
> Warnings: This is not a very nice story. Violence, brutality, nonconsensual sexual situations and character deaths. Lots of it. There are religious tones, especially in the first chapters. Read at your discretion.
> 
> Chapter Warning: NCS, Rape, Violence.

  
**Il Diavolo Sorriso**  
Chapter Three  
 _Rescue Me From Evil, Protect Me From Cruel_  


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Lovino had half expected the Captain's cabin to be filled with silks and tapestries of embroidered red and gold, piles of stolen booty reaching the ceiling shimmering and sparkling, with cages of exotic animals and perhaps a skeleton perched on a chair – for surely a man whose senses had deserted him like would converse with the corpse of a man he had slain as if he were a living and breathing part this merry crew of murderers and sadists.

Instead he found a decent-sized square room, with a large table nailed in the center, covered with maps and three compasses. On the walls were more maps, each with quickly sketched writing and arrows drawn across their yellowed parchment. There was a four posted bed built into the wall, a gray sheets covering a mattress, and a worn single pillow sitting at the head. At the foot of the bed there was a simple unadorned casement with a worn rusty lock. A cabinet stood beside the bed, bolted shut, and on its top were a metal basin of water and lit candles, and it was there that Lovino found the captain, hatless, coatless, and washing red from his face and hair.

Tino slipped silently away from his side, shutting the door softly with a light click of the lock.

He stood there feeling like a fool, holding the tray with steaming food and unsure what to do with himself. While on the Melody it was the cook's honor to personally serve his Captain Smith his daily meals. The man always flourished the tray, with perfectly white napkins, and silverware that Lovino polished right before it was served. The cook always came back blushing in happiness, stating that like always the captain found the meal they cooked satisfactory, and looked forward to the next meal. The thought of the murdered men weighed on the Italian's heart, a heavy and cold rock. Without meaning to his look becoming heated and bitter as he gazed at the source of their demise.

"If looks could kill, I would have been dead the moment you crossed the threshold." Captain Carriedo was drying his hair with a towel, his shirt was unbuttoned, now changed and clean - the soiled one dumped on the floor beside his bare feet. "How was your first day on my Emma?" The Spaniard asked, his face still covered by the threads of the towel.

Lovino shifted uncomfortably; too sullen to answer without having risk of running his mouth and surely dooming himself. Instead, his mind suddenly drifted at the sight of this man, studying the way the flickering illumination of the candlelight's doused the pirate's skin in dark bronze, shadows hiding, but giving enough glimpse to see how in another life perhaps Carriedo would have been the perfect model for a painter.

In memory he could hear a familiar voice begging, "Just once let me paint you, Lovino. I want to show you how beautiful it is when the sun catches your eyes!" It had been a frivolous request, one made after Lovino had tried to woo a pretty girl, and she in turn shattered his heart by saying that she much preferred his fairer brother. Feliciano had found him sulking and tried to cheer him up. Lovino had refused, unable to even look at his brother in his misery.

And now Feliciano was gone, and Lovino wished his brother were beside him, painting a picture of the monster in front of him.

At his silence, the man wrapped the towel around his neck, grabbing both ends with his hands as he stood up tall and turned to his audience. Green eyes looked fresh, sparkling with energy despite how long the day had been, and how active it had started. Lovino found himself being scrutinized by the pirate captain, feeling calculative appraising eyes studying him from head to toe. It made his skin crawl and the hairs on his arms stand, his empty stomach turned, and suddenly the rooms seemed so much more smaller, the atmosphere stuffy and suffocating.

His instincts were telling him to run, flee, throw the food into this man's face and fling himself to the door, tear it open and jump overboard. He was safer in the blackness of the ocean and carnivorous animals of the depths than with this devil standing before him.

"You have not eaten, have you?" Captain Carriedo abruptly asked, startling the Italian from his panicked thoughts. "Place the food on the table and sit. We shall dine together tonight, for there is much to discuss."

Lovino mindlessly obeyed, placing the tray onto the tabletop, then slipping some of the maps out from beneath it to make room. He glanced up at the pirate to find him unlocking his cabinet and pulling out a bottle of wine, spoons, a saucer and two mugs. The young man could only stare when Carriedo turned back to him with a grin.

"Sit, sit!" he waved at him, setting down the saucer with a spoon and mug then throwing himself down in a chair, and taking his plate of food and placing a large portion of it in the saucer. "You need to eat your fill! You're a growing lad, after all. Still got all your teeth. Wouldn't be good to have you lose them so early from starving yourself, right?"

Carefully, oh so slowly, Lovino lowered himself into the second chair. He looked down at his serving, then back at the pirate captain who was already devouring his portion with great enthusiasm. After a second of watching such a disgusting display, Lovino took the second spoon and took a bite. It wasn't the best, but it was hearty and still warm. Still, despite the way his stomach grumbled, wanting sustenance, he could not will himself to take more than three bites.

There was something very, very wrong...

Captain Carriedo reached for the wine bottle, twisting the cork off the head and pouring some into the two mugs. He lifted both, and offering one to Lovino, one dark brow lifted and lips still pulled back in a grin.

"Drink, mi italiano!" Even in the flickering candlelight, his teeth were bright white, eyes glimmering and staring right at him. "There is much to celebrate, and I would have you in good cheer."

Lovino took the offered mug, and sipped at it, watching as the pirate chugged the whole thing down. With a happy gasp, the man slammed the mug down and poured himself another cup. "Despite what De Kaizer says, it had been a bountiful day," he said, drinking. "We were hoping for more arms and food, but we made up in acquiring men that were sorely needed. Emma has been understaffed. Gilbert and Francis were starting to make a fuss. So, though a few, it was enough to quiet everyone for the time being." He finished his cup and Lovino watched in concern as the man poured himself some more, a flush already forming on dusky cheeks.

"And we cannot forget you!" The pirate reached forward a grasped Lovino by the side of his neck. Lovino let out a startled sound and dropped his cup as he was pulled forward, red wine spilling onto the table and staining some of the nearby maps. Unconcerned, Captain Carriedo leaned in so that they were nearly nose to nose, Lovino able to smell the alcohol on the other man's breath. "Berwald is quite happy with you, told me that you know your way around the kitchen. That man doesn't say much, but when he does it is wise to listen. I made the right choice sending you to him, eh?"

"What is wrong with you?" Lovino found himself voicing his question aloud, the question that was making his insides shiver, and his joints stiffen from the moment Tino appeared with the order for him to serve this mad man. The man was off.

Carriedo's brows came up at the impetuous question, and he pulled back a bit – though not lessening his hold on the young Italian. "Wrong?" he asked. "Perhaps I was wrong from birth? What do you see, mi italiano, when you gaze at me with such heat in your eyes?"

Lovino's shoulders twitched at the endeared term, finding himself bold as he snapped, "I see a fool who babbles and drinks beside a man he has kidnapped. I see a sinful man who is damned by his actions."

"Ah, you said that before," Captain Carriedo said with a snort, his hand lifting from Lovino to pour himself some more wine and downing it. "You said that I was damning you by bringing you onto my ship."

"You forced me to join your crew of lawless and godless men," Lovino snapped, his fists clenching. "You forced me to sign your articles in a farce hope that it will bind me to you while you commit crimes worthy of the devil himself."

"Are you damned here in my presence, eating my food, drinking my wine?"

Feeling his neck become warm with anger, Lovino said, "Nothing could be redeeming in staying so close to you. There is something foul in a man's soul if he is capable of committing the depraved acts your performed on my crewmates and my captain."

The boy startled when the Spanish man threw his head back and laughed uproariously. "Your crewmates?" The man cackled, pushing himself up from the table and standing. "Your captain?" Alarmed, Lovino scrambled to his feet, accidently knocking the chair over to the floor with a loud bang. Before he had a chance to even step back, the pirate's arm shot forward and tangled into the front of his shirt, yanking him forward so that Lovino was nearly pulled onto the table. "Did you forget, joven, that you are now part of my crew, and that I am your captain?" Another arm wrapped itself around Lovino's shoulders, pulling him so close that his head was beside the other man's. Lips neared him, so close he could feel Carriedo's warm moist breath against the fine hairs of his ear.

On instinct, Lovino's arms shot forward, pushing hard at the man's chest and shoving him back. He managed to sidestep the table, but the pirate did not release him, both arms now over him in a mock embrace. He looked up at the man, quavering inside, yet not wanting to give the pirate the satisfaction of seeing his fear. Arms outstretched to keep the other at a distance, his back hunching in an attempt to loosen the limbs that surrounded him, he growled lowly, "Get your hands off me, bastard, this instance!"

He only had a second to catch something dark and foul flashing in the pirate's eyes, for the next instant Lovino found his back coming into contact with the door, a hand wrapped like a noose around his neck and holding him in place. He let out a gasp, and took hold of the arm that captured him, digging blunt nails through the sleeves and into flesh.

The captain's brow wrinkled in irritation as Lovino sank his fingers deeper. With a hiss, he took hold of one of the young man's wrists, and slammed it beside his head with such force that Lovino yelled out in pain, afraid that the pirate had snapped it in half. Carriedo bent down at his knees and brought his face so close that their noses nearly touched. "Though your fire amuses me, niño, I will remind you that I am your captain, and command your every move and breath. You will speak to me accordingly."

Lovino sputtered out a laugh despite the hand over his throat, "Or what? Will you tie me to the mast and whip me? Or cut out my tongue, have me cook it and eat it before you put me out of my misery? Or perhaps you will have me boiled to death?" He gave the man a pitying look and snorted, "I'd rather you hurry up and do with me as you intended from the beginning, rather than mock me with such a performance. I know you will eventually kill me, for I am useless on your ship. I will not become a part of your mad crew."

"Oh?" Carriedo moved his hold on the neck, letting his grasp loosen so that the hand came more to cup Lovino's jaw, right below the ear, and firmly nudged his head up. The Italian let out an uncomfortable grunt, unnerved by how much closer it brought the man to him. "Did you not sign my articles, pledging your loyalty to me?" the pirate captain asked. "I was surprised by how you wrote down your name with the skill of a man of word." He leaned to the side, and whispered right into his ear, "Lovino Vargas, mi italiano, my newest acquisition from an English ship."

Lovino forgot to breath when the seaman stepped closer, bringing their chests together so that he could barely see over his clothed shoulder, an invading knee pressed between his and pressed agonizingly right into his crouch. When Lovino jerked to the side, trying to immediately escape, the hand on his jaw tangled into his hair and held him still, the other over his wrist squeezing in warning.

"You say to do as I originally intended," the man purred, ignoring how the other had broken out into a sweat, his breath quickening in anxiety. "Do you fully understand what I intended the moment you looked up at me with your damning eyes? What I intended when I called you to my cabin?"

"Unhand me!" Lovino yelled; his voice high in growing terror as the man crushed him so that he could feel the man completely. He could feel what was hot and firm stirring at the front of the pirate's pants and pressing into his thigh. "I will not do this, you son of bitch! Let GO!"

Though pinned against the door, Lovino managed to swing his only free arm, and slammed an open palm to the side of Carriedo's face, knocking the head away from him. In the moment that the pirate had his head to the side, he surged forward with all his might, feeling his captured arm burn at the shoulder with the force of his attempt. He kicked out one of his legs, trying to knee the man's hip fruitlessly, and then dropped his full weight down to try to break free.

Carriedo whistled as he maneuvered himself so that he could catch Lovino's weight, snatching his other flailing wrist, and twisted him forward so that the young man nearly fell face-first to floor. "Ah, a luchador! But untrained and clumsy, and your muscles so thin and fragile like a woman's." The man laughed and pulled Lovino towards the bed.

With an enraged cry, the young man tried to dig his feet into the floor, his heels burning as he was dragged onward. "Stop!" Lovino's voice broke in his panic, mortified and horrified at what the pirate planned to do with him. He could feel his heart pounding in his head, and even when he fell to his knees in an attempt to stall, the man was undeterred, bending his knees and scooping up the fighting Italian from behind, an arm around the waist.

"No!" Lovino struggled, fought, kicking his legs, and twisting his head in as he tried to look over his shoulder at the man behind him. "For the love of God, don't do this!" He begged.

Carriedo released his hold of him once at the bed, flinging him down on his belly so that the air rushed out of his lunges with a whoosh. He pressed himself down on Lovino when the young man tried to weasel off the bed, hands tangling into the sheets when the man pulled him further onto the center of the comforter. Lovino could do nothing but scream when one of his hands was taken and pinned beside his hip, the other uselessly trying to hit back, but unable to make contact with his assaulter.

The Spanish captain pressed his full weight onto the struggling boy, tangling one hand into dark brown hair to keep him still, and laying his face atop his cheek. Lovino shouted in outrage and fear, thrashing violently in an attempt to dislodge the pirate.

"Hush," The pirate said, moving his hand from his hair to cover his mouth and stifle his cries. "This does not have to be violent nor unpleasant," he lowered his voice soothingly. "We will share pleasure here tonight. There is no need to be so frightened." He pulled Lovino's head up, and nuzzled at his neck, "The more you struggle, the more force I will have to use, making this experience far less enjoyable for the both of us."

The hand over Lovino's mouth loosened, fingers trailing to the back of his head and brush against the back of his neck, pulling at the loose torn collar for more access.

"It's a sin!" Lovino wailed. "You have a whole ship of men loyal to you! All equally as depraved as you! Direct your attention on them and let me go! Please!" He writhed as the hand continued to travel further down his back undeterred, the man's palm scorching hot even over the shirt on the Italian's back. His whole body, from toes to fingers went rigid when the invading limp came to his waist, pushing up the shirt and laying claim to his torso. The Spaniard slowly stroked his skin, calloused fingers running agonizingly over each bump of his spine, pressing down into taunt muscles as if trying to calm him down with his gentleness.

But Lovino would not be calmed. His teeth sank into his lip, feeling the iron tinge of blood as Carriedo shifted his head and began to nuzzle him again, sharp teeth skimming his ear, and a wet tongue flickered against the sensitive lobe. Captain Carriedo moaned, and Lovino whimpered at the sound of it.

The hand on his side tired of its exploration and descended further, dipping dangerously into the hem of his pants, fingering at the dimples, and then brushing against the swell of his buttocks.

There was a pause, heavy and suffocating. Lovino could feel the swell of the other's manhood pressing into the back of his legs, could feel the man's heart pounding into the his back, the panting breath as the pirate became slowly more excited with the boy beneath him.

"Speak to me, Lovino," commanded Carriedo huskily; lifting up slightly so that Lovino could look over his shoulder at him, "I want to hear your voice."

The hand pulled away from the boy's pants, and Lovino's eyes widened when the captain began to one-handedly unbuckle his pants, freeing his manhood with such ease while restraining the other that Lovino could not help but wonder out loud, "How many times have you done this, bastard?"

"This?" Carriedo's eyes were dark with unholy lust, his hand pumping at his cock that jumped and swelled to a frightening size.

Lovino could not look, twisting to stare at his fist clenching into the bedding. He had to swallow down bile before he could speak again. "How many times have you forced men to your bed? I am not the only one."

"Ah, you are right," the man chuckled; the hand that was pleasuring him came back to the Italian's pants, yanking at the hem, pulling it and his breech cloth down. Lovino grunted, when to remove the pants, his hips were pulled up while his chest was crushed down. With both hands free, he tried to push up, but his limbs trembled and back seared in pain as the pirate pushed down so hard he could not breathe.

Like a rat pinned beneath a bored cat, Lovino could do nothing but vainly struggle as his pants was completely removed from his kicking legs, leaving his lower body completely bare. With shoulders and chest still held down, he could do nothing to stop the pirate's knees from pressing between his trembling thighs.

Fingers squeezed at his buttocks, then sank down to his shriveled manhood, the hand engulfing entirety. Lovino shouted and began to blubber anew, feeling disgust and terror as the pirate squeezed firmly then carefully pumped at his length, the calluses brushing against sensitive flesh, pressing at the head, and then coming down to the base.

"Stop, stop, stop, please," Lovino sobbed, feeling an impossible twist at his pelvis, his whole body shivering at the pirates careful ministrations. "Ti pregonon farlo!"

"But, mi amore, you have begun to weep for me," Lovino could hear the smile in the pirate's voice.

Lovino gasped, then twisted his body as best as he could so that he could glance at what the demon was doing to him. With unbelieving eyes, he gazed upon his knees, bare and spread with the pirate's kneeling between them. The pirate had not fully removed his breeches, then were pulled down to Carriedo's knees, lightly haired thighs like pillars between his slighter ones. Carriedo's arm was curled around Lovino's naked hips, his dark hand, which had small white scars across them was wrapped completely around his length, moving firmly up and down – and beyond this scene, quietly laying in wait, was the pirate captain's own manhood, red and hard for its turn for pleasure.

Like lightening, Carriedo's hand grasped at his balls, squeezing just so that Lovino let out a loud howl as if he would die. Heat pooled in his belly, as light flashed before his eyes, and something inside rocked his whole being. He felt sudden release, his body sweaty and weak like he was just free from a horrible illness. Blinking in befuddlement, he gasped at the feeling of wetness on his stomach and thighs, Carriedo's hand drenched.

"What have you done?" Lovino wheezed; his eyes stinging anew at the realization of what just occurred.

He pulled back as the pirate brought his hand out from under him to display to the young man the clear semen coating his hand. "As promised I gave you pleasure, Lovino."

"No," the boy shook his head, glaring up so that he did not have to look at the filthy hand taunting him.

Instead he found green eyes hooded in dark satisfaction. "This was your first time experiencing another bringing you to release, wasn't it?" The man laughed as the boy's face became crimson in shame. "Ah, such a good Christian boy you are. Spent your time learning the word of God rather than find Him under the skirt of a willing woman."

"You're sick," Lovino responded.

"I am damned."

"And you will damn me with you!" Lovino snarled. "I don't want this!"

"Not now," the man's smile pityingly. "But though it would be nice to have your consent, I do not need it. Just your obedience." Lovino found his head seized, a hand clenching to the hairs at the base of his skull and pulling his head back, and just as he yelled Carriedo shoved his soiled hand, still coated in Lovino's cum, into the Italian's mouth. "You will open yourself to me whenever I call for you. Whether I crave this spiteful mouth of yours, or whatever lies between your legs." The man continued to speak, never taking his eyes from the boy as he forced his fingers further down his throat.

Lovino grabbed the hand that was choking him, trying to pull it out. When he could remove the hand, he bit down hard, feeling his teeth sink into bone and blood seeping into his mouth. Hissing, Carriedo jerked his hand away, his fingers bloodied. The two stared at each other, breathing heavily, one in irritation, the other in daring anger.

And slowly, the smile returned to the Spaniard's lips, eyes that were angry found mirth looking down at the boy. Making sure not to break eye contact from Lovino's challenge, the pirate brought his wounded hand up, and with tantalizing slowness brought his tongue out and slicked at his fingers.

Gaping, Lovino could not pull himself away as he watched the pirate's tongue lick over a torn knuckle. Jaw slack in a horrifying awe when the man shuddered over him, eyes rolling in pleasure as if his blood and Lovino's cum were the nectars of heaven. He looked like a man from a painting hung in the cathedrals of Rome, his shirt open and revealing his muscles chest with its brushes of dark hair on the stomach drifting down to the navel and the below to the thick thatch of dark curls cradling his manhood. His eyes, green gems that would undo man and have him covet the devil looked as if he were reaching for the Father, fingers spread even as they were tasted by his dark tongue, like a snake wrapping itself around the neck of its prey.

Like Da Vinci's paintings that haunted man and women alike with his renditions of certain moments that transpired in time.

Looking at him, Lovino wanted to paint, but knew that his skills could never capture the deadly grace of the man. He wished for Feliciano, for his brother would surely understand how enthralling the man looked despite wickedness in his soul.

When Carriedo shifted him, pushing the boy onto his back, Lovino did not struggle, unable to move against the man. He stiffened when his leg was pulled up, the pirate hooking his arm under it and exposing Lovino to him. His hands jumped to at the other's chest, pushing against him.

"Don't." Lovino croaked.

Captain Carriedo swiftly dropped his leg and grasped both of Lovino's wrists, yanking them away. "Do not fight me," he commanded, eyes dark and hard in their intent.

Lovino spat into the man's face, and when the pirate flinched back, Lovino twisted, managing to free his hands, and clouted the other on the cheek with a closed fist. The Spaniard surged onto him, driving an elbow into the young man's stomach so violently that Lovino tasted blood and his sight went black.

He returned to his senses moments later to find that pirate hovering over him, pulling his arms over his head and tying them with a belt to one of the bed's thick wood posts. With a strangled cry, he tried to yank his arms down, feeling the bite of the leather cutting into his wrists.

"I want to devour you," Carriedo said, satisfied that he had the young Italian bound. "I want to mark myself all over you, so that everyone who sees you see ME on your skin." He leaned down, and touched his nose to Lovino's, the boy breathing shortly, by remaining defiant in his stare. The pirate brushed a thumb against Lovino's lips, but at the frightened hitch of the boy's breath, he brought his hand away. "You fear what I will do to you, but you do not fear me," he said softly, pressed his knees in between Lovino's , forcing them apart so that he may rest between them. "You stare at me, claiming me a devil, but speaking to me like a man."

Lovino again watched him as he brought two fingers into his mouth, coating them completely wet with saliva, then removing them. He gasped and then nearly swallowed his tongue when the hand sank down and one finger pushed past the tight ring of muscles of his anus, the saliva on the finger wet and cold and burning him as it forced itself in.

He could not bear it, it was filthy and disgusting, like a horrid worm eating itself into the flesh of an apple, going so deep to reach its core. "Stop," he hissed, when he felt a second finger pushing, twisting as it stretched him to accept its intrusion. "Stop." He begged, and then cried out when the two fingers plunged deeper into him, pain running up his spine so that he found himself arching up to try to feel some relief.

Instead of halting in his ministrations, Carriedo instead scissoring his fingers, stretching the muscles despite the blood that was seeping into his hand. This time, pained tears wet Lovino's eyes, and he turned his head into one of his arms, not wanting the pirate to see them in mortification.

"You are tight, Lovino," Carriedo said, pushing the young man's legs further apart and yanking one leg over his arm. "So tight. Like a virgin girl who does not know how to accept her first man."

"Fuck you…I…I've…" Lovino stammered trying to yank his arms down in vain, "I never-" he could not finish, seeing realization in the man's face, and then pure glee and smugness. With an angry snarl, brought his head up, nearly ramming his forehead against the pirate who pulled back slightly with a whistle.

The arm holding Lovino's leg was pulled further up, the other was pushed to the side so that he was held wide. Lovino sputtered when Carriedo brought his tonge out and licked at his cheek, then whispered into his ear, "Enough of this, mi italiano, I am ready for you." Without any further warning, he angled his hips so that he was pressing against Lovino's opening, and with a growl he pushed forward, tearing through the muscles and into the young man's tight passage.

Lovino threw his head back and howled. It was agony, as if someone had taken one of his grandfather's rods, held it over a flame till it was red and then shoved it inside him without any mercy. He tried to kick the man away, but his feet straightened and bent with no purchase. He viciously twisted at his bound wrists, feeling them become wet as the bit deeper into his flesh.

The Spanish pirate's member was too big, it was wrong, ungodly and impossible. This was why it was forbidden for nothing that came out of so much pain could be allowed by God. Lovino sobbed as Carriedo pushed further in. The man would pause, breathing heavily with sweat peppering his forehead and wetting his bangs. His hair, tied at the nape of his neck, fell over his shoulder like a tail. Green eyes were shut, and brows knitted in concentration. He would push then pause, as if waiting for the agony of every nudge to recede before advancing. He continued on until Lovino could feel the man's balls against his buttocks, and the two shuddered and gasped for breath as they held still within each other.

The pirate pulled back, his cock scrapping against torn flesh. Lovino clenched his eyes shut at the uncomfortable sensation, hoping that the man realized that there was no pleasure to be had fucking a man. But then the man thrust forward, going deeper than before and again Lovino cried out in pain.

Carriedo opened his eyes, and Lovino did his best to glare hatefully through his tears despite the agony he was in. "Ah," the pirate gasped out a breath, Lovino observing a red tinge brushing against tanned cheeks. "I want to die in you, Lovino."

"Then die and end this already!" Lovino spat, trying to kick his legs but the motion sent searing fire into his back and hips.

"As you wish then," smiled the man, and then proceeded to move. Lovino spluttered when both his legs were pulled up and apart, shouting in protest as the pirate bent him nearly in half, his back hurting him in such an unnatural position. Despite his discomfort, Carriedo began to move in him, thrusting forward and then back, rocking the boy with more force, grinding his hips into the Italian and moaning out in erotic pleasure.

The movement became smoother, still painful, but without the agony that threatened to undo the young man. He could not help but gasp whenever the pirate prodded deeper into him, the balls slapping his backside.

Lovino tried to shy away when Carriedo licked at his collarbone. But when the Spaniard pulled up, concerned with his powerful thrusts, Lovino once again let himself gaze at his rapist, the handsome features twisted in ecstasy as he plundered the young man's resisting body.

Almost, Lovino wanted to reach up and touch the man's sweaty temple, for he was beautiful to behold. But evil was not always contorted and disgusting. Like the apple in the Garden of Eden. If Lovino were Adam, would he pluck that apple from the tree, allowing himself to be deceived into taking a bite that would damn him and his soul for the rest of eternity?

Carriedo suddenly thrust so deep Lovino feared the man was trying to stab at his heart, and with mouth open and eyes simmering, the pirate shuddered and let out a deep moan before letting his seed into Lovino's bowels. Lovino had to swallow back bile as he felt firey wet heat fill him to the brim and leaking out onto his buttocks. Carriedo came down onto his elbows, and with a gasp, slowly pulled out of the young man, making the Italian hiss at the burn of his withdrawl.

With an exhausted sound, the man let himself sink down onto Lovino, sweaty and still shuddering from his release. Lovino stayed unmoving, cringing as he felt more of the pirate's essence oozing out of him. His legs were tingling, hips throbbing from being held so long in a way they were unused to. He wanted to be gone from here, felt like he would suffocate if forced to stay pinned beneath this man for a moment longer. His shoulders were on fire, and he could not longer feel his fingers above him. It was as if this assault forced him to feel every single bruise and cut, every pull and twitch of his muscles.

Hesitantly, but desperate stubbornness, he forced his his mouth open and croaked, "Untie me."

The Spaniard lifted his head, cheeks still tinged from his previous excitement and looked at him with such a befuddeled expression that Lovino immediately snapped, "If you are done debauching me, get off!"

This earned him a baleful, if exhausted green-eyed look. "I find it astounding that you still have energy to test me." But still, the man reached forward and over the Italian, using one hand to untie the leather belt and freeing his arms.

Lovino grunted and writhed in more agony as he lowered his arms down, blinking back pained tears as he brought his abused limps to him and examined the damage. They were both completely bloodied, the leather of the belt had cut clear through the top layers of his skin, his fingers were painfully swollen and tinged blue from their lack of circulation.

He could not look at them, his eyes filling with agonized tears, and he sobbed, "You've crippled me!"

"They'll be sore for some time," admitted the pirate. "Berwald will have a salve for them. They will heal."

Lovino swallowed hard, trying to swallow back hysterics. "If that is all, get off me," He challenged, bringing his arms up to try to push the man off him.

"Are you brave of dumb to still use your sharp tongue when speaking to me?" Carriedo allowed himself to be pushed back by Lovino's feeble attempt in space, giving him room to breathe.

"Neither," the boy grumbled, bending his knees and wincing in pain. "I have no respect for fools and cowards."

He was almost satisfied at the sight of mild irritation lacing the man's tone, "You call me 'fool' now!" He snorted darkly, bringing both hands to the boy's head, running hands through sweaty hair as the boy glowered up at him but did nothing to stop his ministrations, too pained and exhausted to resist. "Perhaps I am a bit of a fool, to be so taken by a foul tongued boy who does not know his place. Did the previous captain earn your scathing remarks, or do you save your wit for just me?"

Lovino glanced to the side, not wanting to remember Captain Smith as he lay beneath his murderer.

When he did not answer, the captain sighed and then reached over them, grabbing a cloth and wetting it in the water basin. He sat up and scooted off Lovino. The boy pushed himself up gingerly, feeling agony shooting through him. The Spaniard cleaned the blood and cum from his organ, and then handed the cloth to the young man. Glaring balefully at the man, he took it and carefully wiped at the disaster than was on his legs, and ruin that was below.

As he cleaned himself, the pirate Captain pulled up his panted and belted them shut, and then lifted Lovino's pants from the floor where they had been discarded and threw them at him.

Lovino had to stifle his gasps of pain as he hastily covered himself, his whole body beginning to shake as the shock of what had occurred slowly began to weight down on his body. He had to get out of this cabin, he had to get away from this man, his heart pounded at him. Teeth clenched he pushed himself off the bed and onto his feet, his knees immediately buckling and with a cry he collapsed onto them.

There was a dark chuckle from the bed, and Lovino turned to find Captain Antonio Carriedo reclined on his side on his bed, looking down at his crumbled form with a look of pure smugness. "It should make a man proud when his bed partner is unable to stand after they are intimate in the sheets."

Again, Lovino could feel hysterics rising from his gut, and he could not stifle it this time as he slammed his fist into the floor, "Fuck you!" He shouted, "FUCK YOU! I will pray for the day you are HANGED! I will stand by and watch your legs kicking as your take your last breath, and when your worthless shell has been buried I will pisciare sulla tua tomba! Bruciare all'inferno, stronzo."

The pirate suddenly surged onto his feet, scooping Lovino up by his shirt. In the next instant, Carriedo slapped him across the mouth, shaking him, "Truly your mouth leaves something to be desired. I tire of it." He shoved him away, and Lovino stumbled back and into the door. "We are done tonight. I expect your tongue to have curbed when I next call for your services."

Lovino felt his whole body shudder in revulsion, his eyes widening so much that they burned as he gaped at the monster. "You think," Lovino swallowed hard at the rage beginning to boil in his blood, "that I will let you touch me again?"

Captain Carriedo gave him a sharp look, any light mood that had been present gone. "You will," he promised, taking a step to the table and lifting the bottle of wine and taking it to his mouth, taking a large swig of it. His lips twisted up, an insidious grin pulling at them as he turned his malevolent eyes to Lovino. "You will, even if I have to beat the obedience into your bones. When I call, you will come."

That was the end of it; twisting at the doorknob Lovino pushed the door open and scrambled out and away from the devilish man, slamming the door shut. His whole body shook, his fingers tingling and shooting agony in his back and legs. Turning his back to the cabin, Lovino started to limp his way back to the kitchen. There were a few pirates out; clustering together whether for warmth or companionship Lovino did not care. He could feel something thick and wet sliding out from his buttocks and down his legs, surely staining his pants. The night was dark, the stars out, and glimmering above like little whispering wraiths. There was a cool salty breeze that usually would have been calming, but the black sky was too vast and open, leaving the young man feeling naked with nowhere to hide.

He made it down the steps into the first level below deck, stumbling into the wall as two men shouldered past him to go above. Using the wall to support him, he finally made it to the kitchen, taking a breath of relief to find it empty. He did not care to see the Boatswain, or anyone else who would know of what had transpired between him and the captain.

The thought of having another man look at him knowingly…to have knowledge of what he had been forced to endure….

Lovino shuddered, eyes burning and vision swimming. With a shallow sob, he entered the kitchen, going directly the barrel that held water. He was surprised to find some clean clothes folded on the stool next to the barrel, and did not think twice in pushing his pants down and pulling himself out of his shirt. He used his torn shirt to drench in water, and then crept behind some crates and cleaned himself – not wanting anyone who poked their heads in to see the blood caked at his legs.

As he cleaned himself, he wanted to fight the tears, but he hurt and was too drained. He had to continually wipe at his eyes and nose, snuffling as quietly as he could so as not to attract attention with his despair. When he was done, he pulled the pants and shirt on, finding them ridiculously large, but it mattered naught. He rolled the sleeves and pants legs and tightened his belt to hold the pants up. Once fully clothed, he cleaned his pants and it was then he felt residual wetness at his legs. Reaching into his pants and tenderly touching himself, he moaned at the sight of blood on his fingers. He still bled.

Biting his lips, he tore at his shirt, rolled it and stuffed it down his pants to catch the blood.

He'd become a woman. Shame and disgust twisted at his gut, for he was acting just like a woman during her time of the month, cleaning her linens.

This thought sent him scrambling to an empty bucket, and he hurled into it pitifully. The violent heaves causing his abused ribs to sear in protest. He did not have much to expel, having not eaten very much during the day. When finally his stomach eased, Lovino curled himself onto the floor by some large bags of potatoes and onions.

Cradling his heavy head in his arms, he shut his eyes and tried to banish all thoughts of this harrowing day. But every little movement sent pain that reminded him of the crime that had been done to him. And once again, he wept weakly.

He had been ruined. Tainted now beyond recognition. His body felt alien to him, his soul feeling so twisted by rage and pain and pure humiliation that he could not recognize his own thoughts. He did not feel himself, not the young man who had climbed into the hammock in the kitchen of the Melody the night before, who said the Lord's Prayer before he let himself sleep. There had been some semblance of peace then...

But not now. Not after suffering that man's touch…and the threat of his future attentions.

"Oh Father," Lovino whispered out loud. Shutting his eyes tightly, he moved his mutilated hand in the sign of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. With trembling lips he softly recited the words that still reverberated in him despite his ordeals and struggles, words that had failed him while being brutalized by the devil: "Our Father, Who art in heaven hallowed be Thy name." He forced his mind back, back to a smith in a small Italian village, where there had been warmth and he could see the strong back of the only man whom he respected, the tilting laugh of the brother he secretly admired and envied ringing behind him. "Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us." He thought of the crew of the Melody, and its proud Captain Smith, the Englishman patting Lovino's shoulder as he welcomed him onto his ship and as a part of his crew, and the fat cook who taught him a few things about manning a kitchen at sea. "And lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil…."

Lovino opened his eyes, and found the memory of Captain Antonio Fernandez Carriedo staring at him with poisonous green eyes.

"…deliver us from evil…" he pleaded into the emptiness of the dark night.

"Amen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Ti pregonon farlo! - please do not do this  
> pisciare sulla tua tomba! Bruciare all'inferno, stronzo – piss on your grave! Burn in hell, asshole.
> 
> A/N:  
> This was a difficult chapter to initially write…and even more difficult to rewrite. My main concern was the way readers would react to Antonio – after all, it's easier to accept his violence to other characters, rather than another main character. I did not want it to seem that I was bastardizing him, but rather portraying him in a darker, more realistic light. This Spain is not nice, nor gentle, nor really sane.
> 
> In canon, Spain was given Romano as an underling, a servant…and he was fully ready to have Romano do his bidding. What he didn't expect was for Romano to be lazy and defiant – completely lacking respect for his 'boss'. In reality, Spain would have beaten the defiance out of Romano and made him a true underling who would have done his bidding….
> 
> …except Romano would have then plotting revenge…at least that is how I would have interpreted it.
> 
> That's enough from me! I want to hear from you guys now! Once again, my only request is that if you enjoyed, were tickled, confounded, or had some type of emotion towards this chapter, please review. I am greedy and like to know what is going in my reader's minds….especially after a chapter such as this!


	4. Three Meals A Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovino cooks three meals...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I would like to apologize for two things. 1) For anyone that I never responded to their reviews. 2) For the long wait between the last chapter and this one despite the amazing reviews and support that I have received. 3) For how disjointed this chapter might seem (at least to me). It has been re-written, chopped to pieces; copy/pasted together at least 5 times these last couple of months. I usually like my chapters in one steady stream with no real scene change, but this chapter has a bunch of them which makes me nervous. I hope this chapter is crappy only in my freakish mind and not in reality. 4) Lovino is not his usual cursing self like in canon. I found that I had to neutralize his personality a lot, because him cursing everyone would have him killed within the end of the day in this fic. So, forgive Lovino being ooc, so that he can be IN-character in this fic!
> 
> I have a couple of announcements at the end of the chapter! Please make sure to read them!
> 
> Disclaimer: Hetalia and all characters are not mine. Languages other than English are curtsey of Google Translate.
> 
> Pairings: Spain/S. Italiy(Romano), Sweden/Finland.
> 
> Warnings: This is not a very nice story. Violence, brutality, nonconsensual sexual situations and character deaths. Lots of it. There are religious tones, especially in the first chapters. Read at your discretion.
> 
> Chapter Warning: Violence, bad touching.

**Il Diavolo Sorriso**  
Chapter Four  
 _Three Meals A Day_

* * *

For the second time in two days, Lovino was woken by a fist in his shirt shaking him to wakefulness. Disoriented, unable to shake the grips of oblivion, he reached out to swat at the offending dick who was trying to get him up, but pain in his hands from grasping a large forearm brought his mind to the present, and in the next instant the agony in his body reminded him of his circumstances.

He cried out, absolutely certain that the devil Carriedo was back to assault him again. But the hand holding onto him shook him so hard that his teeth rattled and he forced his eyes open to stare at his assailant.

It was Berwald, blue eyes dark and brooding behind his spectacles. Lovino gasped in utter relief at the sight of the man and felt his body go lax, heart still pounding in his ears from the initial terror. It was dark, a single lantern sat lit on the table behind the pirate. Further back Lovino could see through the small peephole that the sun was beginning to rise, the darkness of night lightening up to a murky blue.

Seeing that the young man was no longer flailing about in panic, the boatswain said, "There's work to be done." Without warning he hauled Lovino up.

It was as if a thousand eels were traveling through his legs and back. As his feet came flat on the floor, his knees buckled and Berwald had to grip him by the other arm to keep him from crumbling like a broken doll. His whole body broke out into a sweat as memories of intrusive pain and bruising hands made his stomach twist painfully.

"I-I can't," he stammered in a hurried breath. "Let me d-down."

The tall pirate stared at him grimly, whether in displeasure or not Lovino was unable to meet the man's gaze for long. Finally Berwald nodded his head and helped lower Lovino back down. He crouched over the Italian, who was gasping in pain, and ran his large hands from his shoulders down to his hands.

Lovino pulled back, snapping, "What are you doing?"

Calloused hands examined his wrists and fingers, pressing with enough force that he hissed.

"Bruised, a bit swollen, but nothing broken," muttered the pirate, then moved his hands down to Lovino's ankles and pulled his folded legs forward.

This action caused the horrible panic to return, and without thought Lovino's arm swung at the man's head. He was dodged easily, and the fingers gripping his ankles tightened. With an enraged growl Lovino grabbed the man's thick wrists to halt any intrusive motion, his fingers unable to fully wrap around the full girth of the pirate's joint.

"Don't. Touch. Me." His voice shook. Damn it.

There was a heavy silence in which neither one of them moved, each trying to stare the other down.

And then, with lips thinned, Berwald spoke, "You were used by the captain. He breached you, did he not?"

Horrible, mortifying heat rushed up Lovino's face. He knew. Of course he knew. He had been the one that ordered Lovino to the captain's cabin. Knew exactly what awaited him when he did so. And of course was familiar with Lovino's wounds, for the man a sodomite.

"Fuck you," despondent tears burned at Lovino's eye, but he swallowed them. With a shuddering breath, he said lowly, "I'm fine." He wasn't. Not at all. "Nothing happened." Everything had happened. The marks on his skin and agony in his body were proof of that. The burning in his heart was evidence enough. Better to lie than acknowledge this shame to the pirate.

Forcing rising bile down to sit in his stomach, Lovino forced himself to look back at the boatswain and said, "Get your filthy hands off me."

There was a pause, and then with a nod the man released him. Lovino curled himself back. He did not protest when he was hauled up onto his shaky feet, the pirate assisting him so that he could place his hands on the table for support. It hurt to stand fully; he was forced to stoop at the hips to alleviate the pressure he felt in his back.

Berwald did not say anything further to him, leaving the young man to stand as the pirate gathered the foods that needed to be prepared for the ships breakfast. Lovino stubbornly took whatever was handed to him, gritting his teeth as he forced his abused limps to function. Still swollen fingers peeled, skinned raw wrists held the knife to cut, quivering legs held him aloft while his burning heart raged at him not to crumble.

He refused to show weakness to these devils. For some reason that _cazzo_ captain somehow caught on to some type of vulnerability in Lovino and decided to target him for his perverse enjoyment. If he continued to show that he was incapable of holding his own as a man, more jackals would flaunt towards him. He would be tormented, defaced and made into their woman to use at will. The day before, because of his youth and palpable terror he had attracted the crew's attention and attacked. Only the rigid law of the Quartermaster had saved him from being beaten to death. Only the curiosity of Captain Carriedo had saved him from flogging. Surely the crew would know what happened to him in the captain's cabin; Tino the Gunner and Berwald the Boatswain knew – had a hand in it. De Kaizer as the mate would surely know what his captain was about. Who else knew? Who else would know?

It was easier to move by the time the food preparations were complete. Lovino had to swallow his terror and force himself to go up to the top deck with Berwald carrying a massive cauldron of gruel. The sun had almost fully risen, and an impatient De Kaizer greeted them with an angry, "Tis late, Berwald. I pray the rest of our meals won't be delayed." The Quartermaster set his steely eyes on Lovino, his gaze appraising him from head to foot as if memorizing every part of the Italian that had caused the ship's routine to have started off late. There were a few men on deck, some attending the rafters, others sprawled here and there in conversation.

Lovino had been unable to make his shaky hands crack the flint to light the fire at the sandpit, so he stayed over the pot and stirred with a large ladle as Berwald set to the task. His attention drifted for but a moment, and it was then he spotted the Sailing Master, Roderich Edelstein, standing alone. The man's brows were knotted, and in his hands he held a leather-bound book that he was scribbling into with a feathered pen. The spectacles that sat on the bridge of his nose had slipped down, making the man look like a crazed academic that Lovino had seen walking about the streets back in Italy.

Suddenly, as if sensing that he was being observed, the dark headed man looked up from his writing and looked back at Lovino. Snapping the book shut, he started towards them, calling out to Berwald for attention.

"How are the stores?" he asked, glancing down with a wrinkled nose at the gruel that was only now beginning to steam. "Yesterday's raid did not have much in food."

The tall pirate nodded in agreement. "We will be out by the week's end," he said, his voice low so that it would not carry.

"I guessed as much." Edelstein took a breath and lifted his glasses, pinching at the bridge with thumb and finger. "I _told_ the captain a month back that our stores were in need of filling. He would not heed me, rather kept me working day and night keeping the _Armada_ on course. He _believes_ us fine with yesterday's acquisitions."

"What of _Joan_ and _Knight_?" Asked the Boatswain.

Edelstein shook his head, "With all the activity I did not get a chance to confer with their officers." Readjusting his glasses and running an exasperated hand through his hair, he gave Berwald and imploring look, "You're one of the few men on board with sense, Oxtenstierna. The captain and his companions are driven blind. They will surely drive these ships to the ground or have every single one of us at the other end of the noose if we do not take caution."

The two officers looked at one another. Lovino, happily invisible in this exchange, hunched down and blew at the flame below the cauldron to keep it alive.

"Find a way to speak to him," Edelstein asked. "He sees me as nothing more than a talking compass and record keeper. My opinion means nothing to him. You have gained some of his respect. Please, for all our sakes, try to reach him."

Having had his say, the man took a step away, pausing for a second to look down at Lovino and nodding his head at him saying, "Vargas," as a way of acknowledgement.

It did not bring the Italian any comfort knowing that the pirate recalled his name. He did not want any of these butchers to take notice of him.

They were not left to themselves for long before the smell of the gruel reached the hungry nostrils of the rest of the crew, and within minutes Berwald and Lovino were swarmed. It was as if the men had not been fed for days; they shoved and clambered over each other, waving chipping and cracked bowl and mugs in an attempt to be first to get their share. Berwald, seasoned pirate cook that he was, served his crewmates with the grim stoicism he maintained with every task he set to. Lovino found pain in both body and spirit pushed to the side and he was soon snarling and shoving back at the hounds: "Wait your God-be-damned turn!", "Shove that filthy mug in my face again and I will use it to scoop yesterday's dinner from your gut!" and "Just cause you took off your hat does not mean I won't know that you've already gotten your share three times you selfish bastard!"

It took nearly an hour for the crowd to disperse, and Lovino collapsed next to the sandpit with a sweaty groan. "Animals. They're all fucking animals."

Berwald made a grunting sound in acquiescence, leaning down slightly to offer the exhausted young man a tin cup full of gruel. "Eat, then take everything down and clean up," he instructed. "I will take the captain his meal."

Lovino stiffened, but took the offered cup, tipping it to his lips and slurping it hungrily. He could not help but glare at the pirate as he pulled out a bowl and lopped the last remaining part of the gruel, making sure to scrape the browned parts that stuck to the bottom of the cauldron. Then miraculously he pulled from his pocket an apple, slightly dented and brown around the corners, but perfectly edible and placed it with the gruel.

Noticing the dark look, the Boatswain gave one back, unflinching. Lovino shrank back and turned away, unable to hold his will against the wall of a pirate. There would be no apology from this man. At the order of his superior Berwald would send him to the lion's den without hesitation.

Lovino did not know which was worse; to be an abuser, or to be one who watches the abuse without stepping forward? But then, these were pirates. They abided by no law of God or man. He was imprisoned on a pirate ship, and would have to somehow adapt under their barbaric laws in he wished to survive.

He could not die. Not yet.

"Sure," Lovino finally said, still unable to lift his head. "Go. I can clean up."

He had to survive. Somehow.

Once left alone, he managed to finish his gruel and swiftly packed all the leftover utensils away. He made sure to clean out the fire pit of any completely charred wood and hay, clapping his hands together to rid the ash from him and sneezing as it drifted into his face. Satisfied, he lifted the cauldron with a sore grunt and was about to start making his way back below deck when something collided with his low back, sending head-first into the sand-pit with an undignified cry.

His mind reeled as he choked and spat at the horrible grains that had gotten into his nose, mouth, and eyes. His eyes watered and burned, and he frantically tried to wipe them clear with his forearm. It took a moment for the beating of his heart to calm and his tears to flush the sand from his eyes, before he was able to hear the cackling laughter.

Still kneeling in the sandpit, he glanced over his shoulder and blinked pained eyes to look at two men sneering down at him.

"Too stupid to swab," laughed one, "so they made him the kitchen wench."

"C'mon sweets," the other bent down at his waste and puckered his lips, "Give us a kiss."

Lovino reeled back in revulsion, his stomach twisting horrible at both the proximity of the other man and the suggestion in his tone.

"Now don't be like that," the crouching one sneered. "Heard you gave the captain his share of kisses. Now's the crews turn, yeah?"

Blood rushed to Lovino's ears with a deafening roar. Both his hands reached to the side and found purchase with the handle of the cauldron. He did not think anything other than ridding these vicious barbarians of their cruel smiles as with a mighty heave, he swung the cauldron and made contact with head of the closest pirate. His arms and fingers jarred at the collision, but that did not stop him from swinging again with a shout, nearly knocking the torso of the other pirate who had been caught by the surprise Lovinio's initial retaliation.

"Get." Lovino spat, "the fuck." His chest heaving in both terror and rage, "AWAY."

"Son of a bitch," groaned the pirate to his side, coming to his knees and reaching for his head.

He looked about to lunge at him when a loud, familiar voice bellowed, "HOLD! _HOLD_!"

Abel De Kaizer was running towards them with such fury that Lovino dropped the cauldron in fear. His two attackers and he scrambled to their feet, all equally aware of the violence that their Quatermaster could meet them with for their brawling. Lovino felt both his hands and feet go cold, knowing that the man already did not think much of him, but for the second time to be caught in a fight with the crew…All his previous determination to stay strong deflated quickly, and his bones began to tremble.

"Vargas!" Lovino was prepared for the fist that struck him on the side of his head, his arms curling up to protect himself as he fell to his side and stayed down in utter submission. He kept his eyes clenched tight, listening to the pirate officer discipline the other two men. "It's like you are dogs sniffing the ass of a bitch in heat! Oxenstierna has already taken him under his wing, so this boy will be cooking your meals, and possibly medicating your festering wounds in the future. Keep. Him. Sound!"

He heard shuffling of feet as his two attackers fled, leaving him alone cowering at the feet of De Kaizer. Still, he stayed like a downed animal, arms covering his head, trembling. He felt more than heard the pirate crouch over him, and did not resist when a hand twisted into his hair and yanked his head up so that he could look up at the man.

De Kaizer's face was cold as stone, eyes like the ocean frozen over. His hair was combed and greased up straight, as if to expose every frigid contour of his features. This man had no fear, no weakness, no shame or regret. The only hint to any humanity in him were the tense lines pulling at the sides of his eyes and lips.

Those eyes narrowed in disgust. "If it weren't for our Boatswain, I would lash you till the skin peels from your back. If it weren't our Captain's curiosity, I would have done so yesterday. You are worthless to me, Vargas. I do not hold you in any sentiment, nor will I. You better pray that you remain in the good graces of my captain and fellow officer, for they are the only ones holding my hand from disposing of you."

Lovino swallowed the bile that rose at the man's threatening words. Yet, staring at cold face, he could not help a small surge of defiance as his said, "I did not s-start this." His voice shook, his teeth clashed. His neck and scalp protested the hold he was in. His fingers curled into fists on the deck, bracing for the strike he was sure would come.

Instead of the expected abuse, De Kaizer said, "It does not matter to me whether you were the one who initiated this fight, nor do I care whether you were defending yourself from those vultures. You are the cause, Vargas. By your presence on this ship you distract my men from their duties, and as you are now, will continue to distract their attentions. For this you are a thorn that I want nothing more than to pluck."

"What would you have me do then?" Lovino asked desperately. "What do you want from me?"

The Quartermaster stood, pulled an unresisting Lovino up with him. He held him still, studying Lovino's upturned face for a moment, and then releasing him with a sigh. "I want nothing from you. You have nothing, no skills nor traits that I have need of. How you survive is up to what little wiles you possess. Heed me, Vargas, the next time I separate a fight and find you in its center, neither the captain nor Oxenstierna will have reason to stall my hand. Get back to work."

He released Lovino, and watched him for minute as the young Italian gathered the kitchen wares. Lovino kept his head down, shoulders hunched when he made his way back down below deck. He found the kitchen empty, and numbly set about the task of cleaning the mess from the morning preparations.

He was hunching over a large pot, scrubbing some of the cutting knives clean when he paused. Daytime light shone through the porthole, striking the flat edge of one of the knives he had cleaned. How would it feel, he wondered, to stab a man through the heart? Would it go deep enough? Would he hit bone and miss? How long would it take for a man to bleed to death?

How long would it take for him to bleed to death?

_We will be fine, brother._

The knife fell clattering out of his hand, and with a cry Lovino hunched over his legs, wrapping his arms around his torso. Such vile, poisonous thoughts! Only the second day in this hell and already he was plotting murder like a man lost of soul and God.

He would die here. De Kaizer has practically signed his death with his last threat. How was he to defend himself and survive if he would be killed for fighting back?

"You're slow."

Lovino stiffened.

Berwald entered the kitchen, pausing at the sight of his hunched form. One eyebrow rose, "You're covered in soot."

Lovino threw himself at the man, latched his hands into the giant's shirt. When Berwald refused to stoop down, Lovino pushed up onto his toes and yelled, "I'm dead! They'll kill me! And if they don't that beast De Kaizer will!" When he found only stone silence and cool features facing his words, he pushed away, stumbling back when his arms could not budge the man from his position. " _Diavoli_! All of you! _Assassini e ladri_! May you all hang! Every single fucking one of you _HANG_!"

His final yell rang against the wood. Lovino gasped for breath, glaring hatefully up at the pirate. Waiting, wanting… _needing_ to see a reaction to his words.

"You were spared death," the man instead said, voice and face emotionless.

"Spared only to be tortured at the whims of you mad men!" Lovino snapped, gripping at his head.

"You're weak," Berwald said, his voice low and the words slurred but clear.

Lovino could do nothing but flush, for there was no way he could deny this truth. "De Kaizer won't let me fight back. He will kill me if I do."

Even though he should not be surprised, Lovino still could not fathom the other man as he shrugged his broad shoulders. "We have to prep for lunch," he said. "I will start cutting; you get a bird from the storage with the livestock."

"Do you care for nothing?" He could not keep the despair from his voice as he asked, "You asked to have me so that I may help you, yet you will do nothing the help me? What good am I to you dead?"

Berwald fished a handful of large yellow onions from a basket, peeling them. "You survive."

" _HOW_?"

Berwald looked at him, and Lovino gulped when he noticed the slight bit of annoyance there. "You get the bird and cook."

The Italian looked up in bafflement when the giant went back to cutting onions as if Lovino did not exist. Defeat weighing heavy in his heart, he forced himself to move. Perhaps he might outlive the chicken before the evening.

* * *

Berwald had been called away to the Gunnery shortly after the chicken had been decapitated and Lovino had begun plucking its corpse. One of the men had not locked his gun and had shot himself in the leg.

"Tino's keeping him from bleeding out." It was grayed man who came with this message, waving his arms in haste for Berwald's aid.

The Boatswain and apparent medic wiped his hands on his pants and reached for a large satchel that sat in a corner. "Finish here," he ordered Lovino. "When you are done take it up and serve the men."

"Alone?" Lovino protested, but Berwald was already gone with the other man. He was alone, covered in feathers and having to cook a meal for over a hundred strong men.

With a foul curse, he launched himself into his task with such fervor he had sweat dripping down the sides of his temples. He opened a burlap bag and found orange colored lentils, which he fried with the broth that came from boiling the fat of the chicken. Once the prepping was complete, he poked his head out of the kitchen and called out to the frailest pirate he could find.

"Oi, you! Help me get the pot up on deck," he said gruffly when the pirate came to him. He was gaunt, missing most of his front teeth.

"I ain't the cooking wench," the pirate said in disgust.

"And you won't be given a fucking drop of food if you don't help me get my shit on deck," Lovino snarled.

This caused the pirate to pause, then with a nasty look he spat at Lovino's feet and cursed, "Fuckin' blighter."

Feeling no small victory, Lovino and the pirate hauled all the gear to the deck. He did not give the man any thanks when done. The pirate did not, nor would ever deserve a word of gratitude. Instead he told the man to fuck off, and did not mind the hateful glare aimed at him before the pirate left him to his task.

Good. Rather to be hated than to be sought after for sport.

It was not new to be despised – he was never very likable, even as a child. Lovino had always had trouble reining his temper. He could not count the times his grandfather had thrashed him for getting into fights with other children in their village. He picked up the language of men from the pubs, and enjoyed making Feliciano squeal at the foul words he repeated by men of dubious backgrounds.

If anything, he could tell a good story at least.

The little bit of victory and confidence he had built up immediately crumbled when he spotted the plumed hat and scarlet coat of _Carriedo il Diavolo_. He looked like a rooster surrounded by hens, standing out so much that one could NOT notice him grinning amongst his men. And it was the devil's smile, eyes flashing and devious as they locked onto Lovino to the Italian's horror.

He was not ready for this. He could not deal with an encounter with the man so soon, Lovino thought in panic as the captain said a word to another man near the main mast and started towards him. He would die; surely, his heart was beating so fast it would surely fail. The blood was drained from his face, his limps trembling, and all the pains and sores that had been pushed aside came forward with a vengeance.

"Ah, mi Lovino! I see Berwald has trusted you with our meal this fine day!" The pirate captain was flashing him a full mouth of white teeth, his head tilted slightly to the side as he looked upon the Italian.

Speaking to him as if he had not tortured him the night before.

Lovino found himself instinctively placing himself behind the large pot and fire, keeping some type of barrier between him and the monster. He opened his mouth and shut it, his Adams apple bobbing as he attempted to say something, anything to the other man.

Seeming oblivious to Lovino's aversion and fear, Carriedo bent over slightly to sniff at the contents warming in the pot. "Hm, I do not believe Berwald has prepared something like this before. Did you make it?"

"Not taking your meal in your cabin, Captain?" he found himself asking, his new-found voice croaking with one word and girlishly high with another. He could feel every man present watching them in curiosity and anticipation for something that Lovino did not want to be a part of.

"I would wish nothing more, but alas no," the devil sighed. "My good Boatswain insisted this morning that I be more patient with my conquests. Perhaps I shall have a far more satisfying experience if I wait?"

Lovino swallowed hard, his arms coming to wrap protectively around his torso. "You'll get bored," he insisted, looking away and praying the devil did not notice how hard his whole body trembled in his presence. "You'll get bored before then. Perhaps you shall find another, more willing companion?"

"Ah, I do not bore easily." The pirate shifted suddenly, stepping around the pot so swiftly that Lovino only had a chance to take half a step back before his shoulder was seized firmly. He stood frozen, feeling the heat on the hand branding him. The shadow of man covered him in a shroud so dark that he could not see anything but the pirate before him. Carriedo leaned in, grinning a wolf's grin about to devour his prey. "And never after something has snared my interest as you have."

The grip on his shoulder squeezed so that Lovino winced. Distracted he did not see the pirate captain bring his other hand up to run the back of an index finger down the side of Lovino's face. Lovino flinched and pulled back, eyes darting in panic to the vultures that continued to watch him and the captain. "N-No!" he gasped, driving his hands up to knock the man from him.

One of his hands was caught and twisted behind his back. The captain's hold of his shoulder became excruciating as expert fingers dug into the socket. One boot clad leg came forward and pushed so that Lovino nearly fell over, the only think holding him from toppling was the painful hold Captain Carriedo had him in.

"None of that now," Carriedo growled, soft and dangerous.

"Bastard," Lovino writhed, his heart hammering in his ears. He could feel himself suffocating in the man's searing heat. The beast's knee slid forward to press against his crotch. " _Don't_!"

"Shh," the pirate bent over to press his face into the young man's neck. Moist lips grazed the sensitive skin there, making Lovino shudder in repulsion. "I want to tear your skin, make you bleed so that every man who sees you knows you belong to me." Teeth pinched at him lightly.

Lovino was sure the man would follow through, screwing his eyes shut and tensing so hard that he felt the muscles all the way down to his legs spasming in protest. But instead the pirate captain took a breath and pulled away, taking care to right the Italian so he did not fall. Harsh hands released him, and ignoring the other's obvious terror, patted Lovino's shoulders.

"Tend to my crew's meal, _mi tomato joven_. We shall leave this for another day, and for another location with less prying eyes." The hands lifted and brushed briefly through his hair, and then pulled away.

Lovino brought his trembling, sore hand to cover his face as Carriedo walked off; heading towards the helm as if they're short exchange had meant nothing to him.

So shaken by this encounter, he nearly burnt the lentil. The smell wafting from the pot made his stomach churn with nausea and he feared that he would be sick in front of all the men. His shoulders hunched, prepared for attack when without having to announce anything the men began to gravitate to him and the food. However, instead of an assault he found them less energetic than in the morning, still acting like rabid animals, but thankfully with less fervor. It was almost anti-climactic how they left him alone to serve without any abuse.

Perhaps it was as Berwald had said. To survive he had to cook. Feed the men, and they will leave him mostly alone. Be the face that serves them their meals and they will develop some type of respect for his position on the ship.

Perhaps their captain molesting him in public made them balk. Was he marked now?

Lovino scratched at his neck, trying to claw away the ghostly touch of Carriedo's lips on his skin.

"Vargas."

Lovino blinked and looked up from his crouch beside the pot. He was cleaning up to head back down to the kitchen. To his surprise he found both Thomas Anderson and Harris White of the _Melody_ standing before him.

He stood up, hand still at his neck. "What? Didn't you get your share?" he asked gruffly. He felt awkward being so close to them. It was like staring at a past life.

The older man, Anderson, had grizzled white hair that was matted with sweat and dirt. His face haggard and lined with deep unhappiness but mostly unscathed. White on the other hand sported a black eye and cut lip. His clothes were torn, and he stood like a man frayed of nerves.

"Vargas," Anderson said, his face hard, but had a pitying look in his eyes. Lovino knew what he was going to say before the old man spoke. "We have been hearing rumors, lad. They've not been gentle…"

"Shut it," he snapped automatically, quickly. He did not want to hear any rumors. None at all.  
"There's nothing to talk about." He squatted to collect his wares.

White came down to his knees in front of Lovino, his blue eyes burning even behind swollen bruising. "I saw what the captain was doing to you earlier. I saw him - "

"You saw nothing!" Lovino snarled, reaching forward and pulling the other young man towards him. "You saw absolutely _nothing_!" He shoved away, standing and swinging the pot over his shoulder.

"Lad," implored Anderson. He stood like a military man in battle, thick hands clenched in fists. "We mean no harm."

No. They didn't. They meant to stick together, protect one another. But they, Anderson and White, both manned the yardarms. Both slept in the lots with the rest of the crew. Neither of them had been targeted by the Quartermaster, neither of them had been forced into the captain's cabin and…

And…

Oh, God. He intended to call for him again. Carriedo would call him again. Not today, but on another day. Any day. Tomorrow….

And they knew it. Anderson and White knew it. Their eyes showed it. Their words said it. There was not denying it.

He couldn't. To accept their pity would be admitting it to himself. He refused. Raged against it. He had no idea what steps he should take, but accepting these men's comradeship would do nothing to solve his predicament. What could three men do in the face of over a hundred hardened pirates and a mad pirate captain?

There would be no escape. They would be killed, if not worse, tortured for their defiance like Captain Edward.

"No," he said. He shook his head and repeated again, louder, firmer, "No." Lovino heaved the pot, and turned his back on former comrades. He stomped away from them, unable to look back to face them in any way. They did not follow him, he was relieved that they did not even bother to call out to him, but he could feel their eyes on him, burning into his back. A shame to his cowardice.

Lovino _needed_ to live. He had to _survive_. He could be a coward as long as he lived.

* * *

The kitchen was no longer vacant by the time Lovino returned to it. Berwald stooped over a water barrel, shirtless and washing blood from his arms. Beside him stood Tino, holding aloft Berwald's large shirt which was completely soaked in crimson.

The sight of the two caused Lovino to stop in place, staring at them. A dirty ladle slipped from his arm and clattered to the floor.

"Oh!" Tino noticed him first. "Take a look at this! It always amazes me how many shirts Berwald ruins whenever he needs to doctor one of the men." The Master Gunner waved the shirt about like a flag, unfazed by the amount of staining on the shirt.

Lovino placed the kitchen wares next to the cleaning barrel, unheeding the other man.

Oblivious to the fact that he was bring ignored, Tino came beside him. He watched Lovino work for a moment before saying quietly, "One of my men died. Such a waste. He was young and did not care for my warning to check the lock." He crouched over his legs, resting his head over his knees, watching the Italian.

"I wonder if you can shoot? I'm now down a man, and we were are already short. Your shipmates went to the yardarms, didn't they? I saw them, good strong men. How good of shots are they?"

"Ask them yourself," Lovino hissed, the other's voice grating at his nerves. The Master Gunner looked of a delicate disposition, but despite how one of his comrades died, he held the shirt that was covered in his blood, and already he was speaking of replacing him as if he were some type of commodity rather than a man.

Devils. Every single one of them.

Tino sighed, "I could have sworn you would be a bit chattier. Sometimes I feel like I am talking to a wall when I'm with Berwald." He gave the tall man an apologetic grin. Berwald was donning another shirt, not taking offense to his partner's slight.

"I have nothing to say to you," Lovino glared, wanting to be left to himself. He had rejected the friendship of good men; he would not accept false kindness from a deviant.

"I don't blame you for your anger," the slight pirate sighed. "You have not had an easy time."

"Really?" Lovino asked hatefully.

"But you need not suffer alone," Tino said. "Berwald and I mean you no harm."

Again, those very same words now echoed through the lips of a pirate.

Lovino found his lips twisting into a harsh grin. Laughter bubbling from the poison in his chest came out as the hysterics he had been trying to control whipped through the wooden cage of the ship's hull. Lovino's mind manically began to catalogue every bruise, cut, and scrape that was painted over his body like a madman's scribbles. Two day's history of cruel violence was written on his skin, proof of wretched situation.

They meant him no _harm_.

His hysterical laughter seemed to mix in with painful sobs so that even he did not know whether he laughed or cried before these men. He brought up one arm to press against his eyes, trying to force some semblance of calm and sanity.

Finally, he was able to swallow his deep despair, dropping his arm and giving Tino, who had the audacity to be looking at him in alarm, the most withering glare he could muster. "You have nothing to offer me that I would ever want. Unless the day comes that I wish advice on how to service a man like a woman, I will never had anything to say to you. I would rather bite off my own tongue."

At his words, Tino seemed to pale slightly, his expression hardening. He stood, finally giving the Italian some space to breath, and went back to Berwald who had watched their exchange in silence.

"I need to get back to work," Tino said, one small hand placed on Berwald's large forearm, fingers pressing into the flesh slightly before letting go. "Perhaps something with a bit of fruit in it tonight," he said before pulling away and leaving the kitchen.

It was when Lovino realized that he had been left alone with the Boatswain that it occurred to him how foolish he had been. He had just insulted the giant's self-proclaimed wife! Though Berwald was just as much of a devil as the rest of the pirate crew, Lovino had inadvertently felt enough confidence in the man's presence to forget every inch of his self-preservation!

With nothing else to do other than panic, Lovino attacked the dirty dishes, scrubbing them wordlessly but hyperaware of the way the large pirate had not moved from where he stood. He dried them of every single drop of moisture with some torn rags, stacking them precisely, breaking out into a sweat when Berwald still watched him.

Like a giant bear watching salmon jumping in the river.

Just one swipe with deadly claws and fangs to rip him apart.

Finally, the gargoyle of a man shifted on his boot clad feet. He took his glasses from his face and cleaned the lenses with his new shirt. "Oranges," he murmured, so low that Lovino almost missed it.

He went to a large crate and pulled the lid, picking out some bright fresh looking oranges. "Rice and oranges," he said, his eyes flickering in thought. "Chicken was for lunch, so no meat tonight…" He trailed off, and finally addressed Lovino, "There is a large bag of rice. Last one. We will make it tonight."

Lovino frowned, "Rice and oranges?" He had never heard of such a concoction. "Will that even be edible?"

Berwald's large shoulders shrugged, "They will eat. If they are hungry they will eat rats and maggots."

The image was so horrid that Lovino visibly blanched. "Surely no man would ever sink so low that he would eat maggots!"

The Boatswain threw an orange to Lovino, who nearly dropped it. "Tino and I were once stranded on an island," he said, peeling an orange, making sure to bag the peel for further use some other day. "We found a dead boar, covered in maggots. The meat was too foul to eat, but the maggots…"

Lovino's eyes were wide in horror, wanting to not believe such a tale. However, Berwald did not seem like a man who told such lies. The Boatswain took apart his orange and ate a piece, chewing carefully and swallowing before continuing: "It was Tino who gathered the maggots and seared them. I would not go near it. Thought him mad with hunger. But his strength kept us alive. My stubbornness would have had us starve rather than scavenge food from the dead."

Tino's large dark eyes, pale face, wispy blond hair, and delicate wrists came to Lovino's mind. He could not imagine it, though he tried hard. After all, this was the very same man who lead the gunnery on the ship, had men whom he oversaw, and managed one of the most dangerous assets on the _Emma_. But still…maggots!

Tino looks were so deceptive to his lethality. He was hard, hard like the jackals on this ship, but stronger because he held authority over them. An officer on a ship of killers, commanding, and leading with skill and ruthlessness…

…yet being buggered by another man…

Lovino looked at Berwald, the Boatswain, the Cook, and the Medic. Truly, Lovino _looked_ at him. Past his size, and his profession of a pirate, he wondered if had circumstances been different would the man have become a baker? Could he have possibly settled in some obscure town and lead a decent, law abiding life? And if so, would he hold such authority as he did now, fixing the wooden hull of a massive ship and fixing the men that sailed it? Would he have commanded Lovino's attention as a baker, or would have disappeared amongst the throngs of every other man that Lovino came across?

Lovino's chest tightened and he asked in a small voice, "Why are you telling me this? Don't you despise me for being harsh with the man you bed?"

Berwald paused, leaning against the orange crate before saying, "Tino can fight his own battles. He is strong. You, on the other hand are weak…just like he was." He looked away, and to Lovino's amazement he saw a slight blush on the man's cheeks, as if voicing these words embarrassed the pirate.

"And how did he become strong?" Lovino inquired.

"He learned to outshoot any man alive." The man was boasting, but the pride in his voice was palpable.

Lovino swallowed hard, and then asked after a second of hesitation, "And me? How can I become stronger?"

The Boatswain nodded his head towards the forgotten orange in Lovino's hands. "Three meals a day."

* * *

They served rice boiled with oranges for dinner. Lovino was left mostly to deal with the men while Berwald took a large serving to Captain Carriedo's cabin. A few men voiced their complaints that there was no meat, but Lovino kindly reminded them of the chicken they had consumed for lunch, so shut the fuck up, thank the Lord, and eat your damn rice.

The sun had set long after the kitchen was clean, and the dishes dried and stowed away. Berwald sat himself on a low stool and opened a small book that he read from, a small lantern on the floor so that he may see in the gloom of the night. Lovino, his body sore, was so fatigued that curled up in the corner he had slept in the night before without a single word.

Sometime later he was awoken to the sound of hushed voices. His fuzzy mind noted that someone had draped a blanket over his shoulders, and curiously he cracked his eyes open. Berwald lay on his side beneath the large table, holding up a blanket of his own to allow Tino to crawl in beside him. The Master Gunner was completely engulfed into the giant man's arms, only his blond head peeking out from the cocoon that the Boatswain made for him.

They were whispering to each other, too low for Lovino to hear. When Tino tilted his head up and allowed Berwald to touch his lips with his own, Lovino could not look any longer. Shutting his eyes from such display, he rolled over so his back was facing them.

* * *

Lovino did not care much for his dreams.

He never spoke about them, even when prodded by Feliciano. His brother was fascinated by dreams, especially his own. Whenever he woke up (always bright eyed to Lovino's disgust) he would throw himself over his slumbering brother, and try to recall the odd visions he had. Majority of the time it was about food, especially pasta (which Feliciano loved bordering on ridiculous). There were animals, all fat and happy, congregating in circles to discuss issues of the world around them. Why beasts got together to discuss issues of man, Lovino had no clue and his brother did not find it strange that animals knew and understood such things. He merely babbled happily to their grandfather and him, and if so inspired, pulled out a canvas and attempted to paint it. He was never satisfied, claiming that he could never get the color right. In his dreams, he claimed, the colors were different, vibrant and bright. Not matter how he mixed his paints; they could never match his own expectations.

"Just use the colors you want," Lovino had grumbled once, washing soot from his hands, careful of a burn on his forearm where he had clumsily brushed against an iron hot shoehorn his grandfather had been about to douse into some water. "No one knows what they're supposed to look like since they came from your head."

"But I will know," was the whining complaint. "It doesn't matter what anyone else sees because they don't know the truth. But for me…I'm the only one who knows what they're supposed to truly look like."

Feliciano was outside, leaning through an open window to the smith that grandfather owned. They were young, adolescents with fat still on their cheeks – especially Feliciano, whose eyes took half his head when not squinting them in laughter. There was a gentle breeze, and Lovino looked up at his brother, who cradled his chin in crossed arms, a gentle far-away look in his hazel eyes, his hair tussled and messy, the flyaway locks brushing against his forehead. Lovino had always been in awe of his brother, how when he paused and was quiet and smiled just _so_ he seemed so unnatural.

They were twins, similar in appearance (though Lovino took after his grandfather's darker coloring), but opposites in temperament. Lovino was surely and foul mouthed, downtrodden and pessimistic. Feliciano on the other hand seemed to shine and thrive no matter what the circumstances. Even when grandfather was killed, and the two were on their knees, scrubbing his blood from the ship's deck after pirates had left them and a skeletal crew alive; Feliciano, though weeping, wrapped an arm around Lovino's shoulders and whispered, "We will be fine, brother. Don't cry. We will be fine."

It was Feliciano, who when reaching the docks of Nova Scotia, suggested that perhaps they should work in a bakery rather than a smith. Grandfather was no longer with them, so why carry on with something that did not seem to fit either one of them? "Besides," his brother was grinning so large one could not help stare at him, "Beating dough is far more pleasant than beating iron!"

So they both apprenticed with a chef, and both thrived – in their own way. The chef liked Feliciano's creativeness, while appreciated Lovino's way of squeezing customers to buy their breads and pastries. Lovino was bit more methodical about his approach, while Feliciano liked to experiment. Feliciano was fastidious about putting away everything in its place when done and making sure all the dishes and bowls and tables were clean and spotless. Lovino whined and whimpered and complained when it came to this – even once earning himself a kick in the rump from the chef who had tired of his slovenly tendencies.

Slowly, despite the grief of their grandfather's murder, happiness began to creep into them. Feliciano's optimism was no longer forced through crippling loss, and Lovino could feel himself smile at the thought of what the new day would hold for them – of course he hid it from his brother, for God knew Feliciano was happy enough with little excuse!

He should have known better. Happiness, contentment, stability was not something written for the Vargas brothers. Disasters always lay around the corner for them since they had been born to the world on their mother's deathbed. Their father died of illness before they reached their first year, and orphaned, were taken in by their grandfather.

And their grandfather, strong and resolute smithy that he was, could not withstand the vicious assault of pirates.

They were harbingers of misfortune, it seemed.

And misfortune was not done with them…

"Lovino! _Brother_!"

Happy, kind, foolish Feliciano. Eyes filled with terror and tears. His hand, which never seemed to carry a single callous of the harsh world, reaching out to Lovino, and calling…

Screaming…

" _BROTHER_!"

Lovino awoke with a jolt, hair standing on end, his heart drumming loudly in his ears and beating at his chest. He took a shuddering breath, and threw his arm over stinging eyes and forced himself not to weep.

No, Lovino did not think too much of his dreams. He never spoke of them, nor would he ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Notes:  
> 1) NaNoWriMo is in a couple of weeks. I will be delving for the whole month of November into another project (I'm considering taking Honor and Pride – the Avatar Last Airbender fanfic – and making it into an original novel). But do not fear, I plan to have Chapter 5 of Il Diavolo Sorriso completed before January 2013!
> 
> 2) Let's talk about Love, Il Diavolo Sorriso, and Me (Tristripe):
> 
> When I originally wrote this story (or at least the first 9 chapters) back in November 2011, to get the word count of 50,000 words for NaNoWriMo I inadvertently began to write the SAFE way. As in, despite the horrors that Lovino experienced, he AND Antonio began to become gentle…or fall in Hollywood love.
> 
> Writing a Hollywood love story is simple, because the emotions are easy. There is forgiveness to faults that should be unforgivable. There is comradeship and laughter, and in at least Hollywood, romances live happily-ever-after.
> 
> Il Diavolo Sorriso is NOT a love story. This is the story about survival, and the extent some men will go to reach their goals. It is about losing oneself to hatred and vengeance, and the sacrifices they make to achieve them.
> 
> I did not realize how difficult it is to write this until I had to go back and continually re-write what I had already written 3-4 times because when editing I found that I had taken the easy road again and again! For this I have so much respect to the writers, who despite loving the characters as much as I do, are able to go those distances others wouldn't be able to bare to go to. Kudos to them. I hope I will be as successful as they have been!
> 
> A couple of days ago I read one of those advice columns where a woman was complaining that when she asked her boyfriend whether he loved her, his response was, "What do you mean?"
> 
> I found myself wondering the same thing, "What the fuck does she mean?" I am a 31 year old woman. I was engaged once, and we mutually broke up 6 years ago. Never once did we say that we loved each other…at least not out loud to each other. Do couples actually do that? It wasn't until after our breakup by about a year that one of my friends told me, "I know how much you loved him." And it HIT me HARD. I did love him, dearly. But I wanted him to be happy. We wanted the other to be happy, even if it meant letting go of what we once had.
> 
> I have not been in love again, nor do I really search for it – but then people tell me I am a strange bird. The older I become, the more I am baffled by the way people define or express Love.
> 
> Love, to me, is heartbreakingly tragic. The rise, the fall, and the inevitable separation that is the ending of every person alive.
> 
> Though not a love story, I find myself unable to NOT delve into this enigmatic emotion through other characters that you shall meet in the chapters of this tale (you have already met one couple!) Unfathomable, quite, and deep. Every couple is different in their expression. And…because it is me, be sure that they will be heartbreakingly tragic.
> 
> I hope I have not bored you with this incessant babble.
> 
> Leave a comment, and see you in chapter 5!


	5. Broken Things Can Still Be Shattered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I wrote this back in…March/April. Due to personal issues, I have not looked at it since. I am absolutely distracted by my Hobbit fic "Far From Home" so I am not sure when the next update shall be. Anyway, I think it's time to give you patient readers some more Lovino abuse.
> 
> Chapter Warning: Graphic violence, abuse, NCS.

The four days that followed were tense yet thankfully uneventful. Under Berwald Lovino continued to go about his duties mostly unmolested by the crew. The Boatswain left him more to himself to choose what meals to feed the hungry men on the Emma. Though the men did not care for him, and he despised every missing tooth and grimy nail, there was a subtle respect growing as he became the face that served them their meals through the progressing days.

He learned where all the produce and animals were stored, and when Berwald discovered that he could read and write, Lovino was tasked to keep a meticulous inventory. He also gained the Boatswain's attention when the man was choosing nails to use to repair a crack in the hull, and Lovino offhandedly suggested the suitable width and length of use. When asked about his background, he was forced to admit of his past as an apprentice to a smith.

"You never spoke of it," Berwald had said, his gaze more severe that normal and with a slight accusation in his normally monotone voice.

"You never asked," Lovino had snapped.

Yes, he might have the skills and knowledge of metals, but actual building with wood was for a carpenter. Lovino had enough to deal with simply cooking three meals a day for over a hundred men. Building and fixing was a lot more manual than cooking, and physically Lovino had no stamina for it. Not back when he was dragged behind his grandfather, and not now forced into slavery on a pirate ship. The less responsibilities, the less of a feature he was on the ship, the better. Less attention. Less work. More chance of survival in his opinion. He did not want to aid them, nor be a part of their heinous activities than he currently was.

"It's such a waste of skills," Tino had argued on the evening of the third day while Lovino was cleaning and Berwald was absent medicating a crewmember. The Master Gunner seemed to have forgotten Lovino's harsh words to him, and continually paid him brief visits to the kitchen while he worked. Lovino kept his cool around the fair haired pirate, staying civil yet hoping the other man would feel unwanted and leave him to himself. But Tino would not be thwarted, and stayed and prattled, and every night bedded down beside Berwald, not paying any mind to Lovino who could not help but glare at their audacity.

But he kept silent. Turning away when they touched and kissed, and covering his ears when touches became thrusts and groans.

After such nights he could not look either of them in the face without mortifying heat coloring his cheeks. There was no doubt that both parties had enjoyed lying together, and Lovino could not understand how Tino willingly _consented_ to Berwald mounting him.

Lovino could not wrap his mind around it, so he tried to stop thinking about it. Completely. Until the next night when he awoke to the same fevered noises and grunts.

On the fourth day, the steady routine was shot to hell.

Lovino was still preparing the morning's breakfast when Berwald came to him saying, "A storm's coming."

Those words set Lovino into motion, grabbing coiled rope and with some instruction from Berwald went about securing the baskets and barrels of food. The pots were stuffed away, and all of the inventory parchments were given to Berwald who locked them in a sealed tin box to prevent it from becoming water logged.

The waters were already becoming rough by the time they had chained all the livestock cages. Lovino, inexperienced with how the ship heaved beneath his feet, found himself on hands and knees, swearing. Berwald simply twisted a fist into the back of his shirt and hauled him up and out as men scrambled to the deck at the sound of the Quartermaster's call.

On deck Lovino could not help but gape at the darkness of the clouds above them, and the harshness of the wind billowing at the mast and men. The sails were being pulled up onto the yardarms and tied, wood groaning, the crows nest swaying to-and-fro in the wind. There was a ribbon of lightening, followed by the menacing rumble of thunder as the clouds became black in color and growing wrath. Unwittingly, Lovino turned towards the helm as Berwald shoved the tin with the precious documents to him with orders to give them to the Sailing Master. There, black hat and white plume, blood red coat with black cuffs and gold cufflinks, stood Captain Carriedo. He had full hands on the ship's wheel, behind him was Edelstein, scope over one eye watching the swiftly approaching storm.

The second flash of lightning set Lovino's feet moving, running unheedingly towards the helm. He had to shoulder his way in between the crewmen flitting about and nearly barreled straight into the De Kaizer. The Quartermaster grasped his arm tightly and demanded over the roar of thunder, "Where are you running to? Help secure the canons!"

Lovino lifted the tin, and was about to stutter the task he was assigned, but De Kaizer took one look at it and nodded, shoving him away. "Go. Give that to Roderich and then get your ass down and help with the canons."

Nodding in acknowledgement, Lovino raced towards the quarterdeck and then took the stairs up to the helm in two. Infant drops of rain hit his face, and wind blew his hair back when he approached the two men, captain and sailor.

It was Edelstein who noticed his approach first, his spectacles splattered with drizzle. Trying to keep his eyes on the Sailing Master rather than the pirate captain who was now staring at him in mild surprise, Lovino thrust the tin and stammered, "F-from Berwarld. T-the s-store inventory." He silently cursed how timid his voice was, and swiftly turned about and fled from that horrible green lurid stare.

He did not have a chance to think much more of the issue for the storm picked up its ferocious pace. Within moments Lovino had his arms around the round body of a canon as two other crewmembers tied it down into place. Waves came crashing over the body of the ship, sweeping over the deck as if trying to cleanse years of filth. Lovino, and a few other sailors found their feet swept from beneath them multiple times. As the waves became stronger and harsher, Lovino scrambled below deck in fear of being swept into the dark waters, drenched and terrified that the ship would be swallowed whole.

He was gripping the stairway rail when there was a shout, followed by a loud crack. He cried out when the ropes securing one of the canons snapped with the powerful surge of the ship, sending it barreling against the side wall and crushing one of the pirates with a horrible sound that could be heard despite the noise of storm and men.

Lovino watched in wide-eyed horror as men cried, "Get it off him! Quick!" It took three to move the canon, and the pinned pirate slumped forward. The wall behind was splintered with the force of the strike, blood smeared on the wood drenching both front and back of the man's torso. Arms were bent oddly across his middle as if his human limbs could protect him from smashing iron. Face white, eyes pale and staring, blood bright red on his lips.

"Oxenstierna!" The men now cried, "Get Berwald! Quick!"

Again, the ship lurched, and sea water burst through the portholes. Lovino clung to his spot, unwilling to descend nor ascent. One pirate climbing the stairs stopped beside him. "You!" he yelled over the storm, grabbing Lovino's shoulder and bending close with squinting eyes. "Y'er the Cook's boy. Get down an' help th' man!"

Tongue lodged in throat, Lovino could not muster a single protest as he was hauled up and then nearly flung down towards the injured pirate's body. He was shoved to his knees, pants soaking in both salt water and blood, hands on him, gripping him, shaking him, saying, "Do something! Cook's boy, do something! Fix him, damn you, fix him!"

The man's whole middle was a mess of crushed flesh and bone. He could see the peek of entrails, shining and wet. The skin was white, the eyes staring at nothing. Dead. He was dead. What was he supposed to _do_?

But the pirates…these _men…_ continued to press down on him so that he was now bracing on his arms to prevent himself from falling over. The ship moved beneath them and one elbow gave and now Lovino's face was beside the dead man's toso, and _Lord have mercy, I can smell him!_

The hands were suddenly gone, and Lovino pushed himself up in time to see Tino, short, woman-like Tino, backhand one man while yelling, "What do you think you're doing? Secure the canon before it kills another man! Now!"

Never before had he been so happy to see another man before. As he got to his feet, Tino gave him a once over to see if he was not worse for wear, and then said, "Help me get the body out of the way. We'll deal with the dead later."

Tino took the man's legs while Lovino wrapped his arms beneath the armpits and between the both of them they managed to haul the body into one of the stores. Even though both of them were drenched, Tino wiped sweat from his brow with his forearm. "Just 'cause you can put a meal together they think you can put a man together…" he muttered softly.

Lovino watched him, his back braced against the wall. Courtesy would be to thank the other man for saving him, but such words and sentiment were barred away from Lovino's tongue. He did not know if he could speak them, even now, shivering with cold and frightened out of his wits.

The blond pirate placed his hand on the wall and said, "Seems like the waves are calming down. Good. I counted two going overboard, and Lord knows how many more unfortunate wretches there are like this one." He nodded with his head towards the dead man. Then, with a shake, he straightened his back and walked out of the store, leaving Lovino baffled at the complete change he had witnessed in the other.

Small, fragile looking Tino, catamite to Berwald. Large eyes, soft blond hair, and pale skin. Yet, his station on the ship was that of the Gunner, the best shot on the ship and proud of it. Despite his stature he dominated another pirate, cowed him into obeying with one strike from his twig-like arm. There was not a single shred of doubt in Tino's eyes that he would be disobeyed. He knew and understood the power he had over the men, knew how to harness it and deal his punishments.

Tino was a man.

Knees suddenly weak, Lovino sank down into a crouch, knees bent, feet spread. Swallowing, he glanced over to the body and found himself unnerved by staring eyes. Reaching over, his fingers shaking, Lovino gently pulled at the man's lids and shut them before pulling back and tucking his hands tightly under his armpits.

True to Tino's words, Lovino could feel the water and wind calming its temper, and allowed himself to relax a bit. He tiled his head up so that back of his head rested against the wooden wall, listening to the commotion of the pirates cursing and scrambling about under and above deck. There would be a lot of work to be done after such a storm, Lovino thought. Such a shame that he had no inclination of leaving his current post and offering his hands to help. He might cook them their meals, but he held no loyalty to them, their ship, nor their wretched captain. May each and every single one of them face the firing squad.

Inadvertently he dozed off, waking with a jolt as two men entered the room and began hauling the body out by the legs.

"What are you doing?" He asked, scrambling to his feet and swaying dizzily.

Only one of them looked up, a man with dark skin of an African, and answered, "Captains' gonna give 'im his last rites before he joins Davy Jones' crew."

Of course, he thought as he followed them. They had to dump the body overboard. A corpse attracted too many diseases to be held properly in such a confined space as a ship.

At least that was what had been explained to him and Feliciano not so long ago when they had been pried off of their grandfather's body.

Feliciano had cried horribly. Both priest and mate - both ordained - had perished during the pirate attack, leaving the ship with many dead and not a single soul to send off their souls. There were no last rites, no Christian burial for their grandfather. Just two brothers weeping as his body sank into the black and blue of the dark waters.

 _Perhaps_ , Lovino could almost hear his brother's voice cracked with tears, _once in the New World we can make enough to buy some plot and stone?_

 _There's no body, Feliciano_ , he had argued.

Lovino could vividly remember the press of Feliciano's face on his shoulder, the moist pricks of his tears. _At least…we might have a place to remember and pray…_

A place to remember and pray.

Lovino stepped up into the sunlight, nearly blinding by his brightness after such gloom. There was debris strewn around the deck, pirates with brooms at hand sweeping and mopping. Pirates up on the yardarms inspecting the sails. Pirates at the canons checking the powder and balls. Pirates dumping bodies overboard like forgotten sacks.

Would he ever find a place to remember and pray? Would he even survive long enough to ever see land again? Or would he end up like one of those lot, crushed and dead, dumped and done with?

The Captain was dressed in coat of black as he waved his hands over the faces of his dead crew, mouth moving in recitation of prayer. Lovino almost laughed at the hilarity of the sight: A demon crew on a demon ship with the devil himself sending them off to hell with the flowery false words of God on his lips.

It was such a blasphemy that Lovino turned away as the last body was thrown over the rails.

He found Berwald shortly and the two were about to head below to take stock of the damages to the kitchen when the loud booming voice of De Kaizer shouted out, "All hands on deck!"

Others called out with the same words and soon the deck was crowded with _Emma's_ crew. Lovino felt smothered, but Berwald took hold of his shoulder and pushed the two of them forward so that they stood at the head of the crowd.

Cold prickles of absolute dread chilled his bones when he noticed one man on his knees with arms bound behind him and sack over his head. Instinctively, his eyes darted around the surrounding crowd, eyes landing on Thomas Anderson's grizzled form. His white hair was plastered to his head, beginning to frizz from the beat of the sun. It was his eyes, however, that told Lovino everything.

The bound man was Harris White.

Abel De Kaizer was pacing around the deck, not speaking until he estimated the whole crew was present. Behind him Captain Carriedo stood with black clad arms over his chest, eyes dark and stormy as he surveyed his men's reaction to the proceedings. Next to him Edelstein stood vigil, a notebook open as he scribed the event.

When the Quartermaster spoke, not a single soul uttered a sound. "You all signed the Articles of the _Armada_. There isn't a single man here that did not use his own hand to sign his name. I myself read it to every single one of you present, so none can step forward and argue ignorance to our law." He reached down and ripped the bag from White's head, and Lovino flinched at how beaten his face was, eyes swollen shut, mouth so bloodied that it foamed, nose and jaw obviously broken.

Berwald's hand on his shoulder was suddenly a manacle, iron hard and holding him captive where he stood.

De Kaizer tangled his hand into White's hair, keeping his head up for all to see as he continued, "This man here, Harris White, is accused of stealing from the gunnery and attempting desertion. This cowardly thief whom we spared not a fortnight ago, who ate a share of our food, abandoned us during our time of need, stole three rifles and was cutting the ropes to one of the small boats when he was apprehended." The scarred man's voice rose with the wind, "'That if any of the Company shall advise, or speak any thing tending to the separating or breaking of the Company, or shall by any Means offer or endeavor to desert or quit the Company, that person shall be shot to Death by the Quarter Master's Order, without the sentence of a Court Martial.'"

With that the man pulled out a rifle and placed it against White's temple and pulled the trigger. Blood and bone sprayed as the bullet blew through the opposite side of his head. De Kaizer released the head and did not even look down as the body slumped forward lifeless. "Remember what you signed your names to, men! I will not tolerate any acts of theft or desertion. It is a death sentence, and this is a reminder to all who have forgotten!"

He then pointed a horrible finger at both Anderson and Lovino. "You, his former mates. Throw this filth overboard and clean the deck."

Anderson, face nearly as white as his head stepped forward immediately. Lovino on the other hand stood frozen in place until Berwald shoved him gently. Leaden, iron-weighed his feet felt as he stumbled ahead. It felt like his body was made out of thin wood, his joints being pulled by strings jerkily as he bent down beside his late-crewmate and with the aid of White they managed to heave the body overboard.

When Lovino raised his hand to make the sign of the trinity, De Kaizer barked, "No. He goes where traitors go in death."

A bucket with water and dirty rag appeared like magic, Lovino did not know who fetched it – perhaps it had been there the whole time.

Anderson took to the task of scrubbing with his weathered face pinched in grief. Lovino, though no stranger to cleaning stains off pots and spills off wood floors, found himself dry heaving when he found bits of brain and bone in his hand. As he cleaned he noted briefly the captain speaking closely to both Berwald and De Kaizer, before ducking his head down when the quartermaster seemed to sense them being watched. Berwald's face was stormy when he left them, and Lovino could only wonder at the tasks ahead of the pirate boatswain. Cook, carpenter and medic all in one, now with a ship cracked and groaning and men bruised and cut, and food waterlogged and inedible.

Lovino paused in his work, red staining him to his elbows. They were running low on food before the storm, and Lord knew what devastation the storm did to their stores. He would need to take inventory again and start rationing. How far away were they from the nearest port? Were there any islands that they could bring the ship ashore to forage for some meat and fruit?

"Vargas,"

Lovino blinked and looked to Anderson. The older man was crouching beside the bucket of bloodied water. He too was covered with it, shirtsleeves and pants. His eyes were so aged and exhausted that Lovino suddenly feared what the man was about to say.

"Don't," he said sharply, standing swiftly. "Just…don't say anything."

To his horror, tears formed in Anderson's grayed eyes, and there was such broken devastation in them when he whispered, "We cannot speak out loud no prayer nor absolution…but perhaps we can say it in our hearts? Are we not Christian men even when amongst devils?" White lashes fluttered and fell as his lids shut, and Lovino watched the old man take three deep shuddering breaths and knew that Anderson now prayed.

This action, such a quiet act of defiance while their captures were occupied, moved Lovino. Though he had barely known Harris White, and knew even less of old man Anderson, he had never been abused by them nor had they ever done him slight. Just the other day, they had offered him friendship despite knowing the sin that Lovino had been forced to partake in. Comradeship, acceptance…

The least he could do was pray with his heart.

So when Lovino took the bucket in hand and titled it over the rail, he began, " _Pater Noster…"_

* * *

The kitchen was been a right mess, waterlogged, with seaweed having burst through the portholes and just giving Lovino more work to slave over. His hands were white and frozen from the cold of scrubbing the seawater off all the equipment and floorboards. His gut twisted in worry as he found most of their stores were completely ruined. Half the chickens were gone while the other half were dead. He would have to skin and salt the meat to try to preserve what they had left before it rot. There was barely enough food for two days.

Rationing it was then. How that would fare on a ship of degenerates who would most likely sell their mothers for a bowl of broth rather than go a night with hungry bellies…Lovino stubbornly tried not to think of it. It would be a disaster for sure, but then, if these men killed each other just to get a second lick of food, all the better.

Berwald had been holding tight to a frightening scowl since the execution. He popped into the kitchen twice, just to glance over Lovino's progress before going off to fix both wood and man.

On his own Lovino took his cooking on deck – despairing at how long it took to light a fire with everything so drenched. Tonight was a simple broth with carrots, onions and minced chicken. A few men looked over his shoulder and grumbled at the scarcity of it, but he snapped at them to pick some oranges from the garden of the ocean if they wanted more.

The broth was just nearly complete when Berwald joined him and whispered lowly, "You will take the Captain his meal tonight."

The ladle that Lovino had been using to stir slipped from his numb fingers and clattered loudly to the ground. Hot scalding broth had splattered onto his shins, but though it stung Lovino did not move from his spot, staring wide-eyed up at the tall pirate. His mouth opened and shut, aimless and wordless.

Berwald did not seem fazed by his frozen state, bending down to retrieve the ladle. He procured a bowl and filled it to the brim with broth and offered it to the still witless Italian.

Finally, Lovino managed to shake his head, his eyes now glued to the bowl as if it were meant to cut him. "N-no," he protested, taking a step back. " _No_."

The Boatswain would have none of it. One large hand shot forward just as Lovino seemed about to flee, snatching him by the shoulder of his shirt and hauling him close. "You knew this would come," the pirate said, dark blue eyes stone cold. "You've endured it before. You will endure it again."

"Bastard…" Lovino half whimpered, half hissed, trying to twist away.

Berwarld shook him, hard and bruising. "Choose," he tilted his head to the side so that Lovino could see the other crewmembers watching them. "Defy the captain and see what they do to you…" he pressed the bowl firmly against Lovino's clenched fists. "Or do as you're told."

They stared at one another, one unrelenting as stone the other shattering like glass. Lovino dropped his gaze and with shaking cold hands took the bowl. Shoulders hunched, back stiff, he forced himself to look up at the man and swore, "Only God can forgive you, you fucking savage, for I have none to offer you."

Blue eyes blinked slowly at him in acknowledgement, but that was all he allowed Lovino. The large pirate turned away from him, ladle in hand and waving the men towards the boiling pot of dinner. He had said what he intended and achieved his objective. Lovino was forced to step aside or be trampled by the forward surge of hungry pirates pushing and shoving to be served before they were left with none.

Lovino watched them from the side unable to make himself move, his mind desperately thinking of ways to escape. Dump the bowl, climb the main mast and hide in the crow's nest? Impossible, he would surely fall. Make way to one of the rowboats and risk the mercy of the great blue? Impossible, he would need a knife to cut the ropes, and on both sides of the _Emma_ sailed the _Joan de Arc_ and _Knight_. Some lookout on either one of those ships would surely spot him…No…there had to be some other way…

"The food cools."

With an undignified startle, Lovino found quartermaster De Kaizer standing beside him. Before he had a chance to even utter an excuse, the scarred pirate said, "If you're feet are too useless then you have no use for them. I would gladly cut them off and see how you fare without them."

 _That_ sent Lovino running, not doubting the violent man's words. Keeping his head down, watching his feet step forward one after the other over the dark wood of the deck. The men ignored him, heading the opposite direction as he, following their noses to the smell of food. Lucky bastards. While they fill their bellies with Lovino's hard work, he on the other hand was walking towards…

…towards…

The door to the captain's cabin loomed before him. Stretched out and distorted ominously, for behind the panels and nails sat the devil who would surely devour him. Rip his soul to shreds and savor his shattering with a wicked grin and malevolent green in his eyes.

He did not want to think of them. For their memory took him to that wretched moment othe last time he entered the room. The pain, the humiliation, the _sin_. Already he could feel his bones and joints begin to rattle. He couldn't do this. How could he go through with this knowing exactly what waited for him? Would he simply walk through the door like a lamb to slaughter, bleating innocently at the pull of his master?

But he was no sheep, nor did he have a master no matter what anyone said to differ. It was simple. Desertion meant death – and a sure death for there was no way that Lovino could escape. Stepping forward and facing his adversary like a man meant there would be another day to face, another day alive, another day with the possibility of hope…

If Tino could survive amongst the rabble, why not Lovino?

Lovino was no sheep. Berwald had told him to choose. Sheep were incapable of choosing their fates. Berwald had told him to endure, so he would endure whatever fell this night.

Lovino shouldered the door open gently and stepped in.

No tears, he swore. No cries of fear, no matter how horrifying his torture. Lovino would not allow it.

Captain Antonio Carriedo sat at his table full of maps. He wore no coat, the white of his shirt open and baring tanned chest and hair. His hat was discarded on one of the posts of the bed, the white plume like a bird perched to observe. One elbow was leaning atop the table, hand pushed into the tangles of his brown hair that was dark with the toils of the day. A compass lay open and cracked next to one booted foot. Three candles lit the gloom of the room.

All these details were insignificant but for the glare of those green eyes staring ominously at him, letting Lovino know that he had made a grave mistake.

 _Fuck_.

The pirate stood.

_Fuckfuckfuck._

Lovino threw the bowl at his head.

The contents splattered as the man swatted it before it struck him, sending the bowl shooting to the corner with a loud shattering crash.

Everything seemed to slow, Lovino could see all the details brightly even as he turned away to flee. There was broth staining Carriedo's sleeve and collar, his eyes darkening in rage, a snarl twisting tanned features as white teeth clashed. Lovino's hands were on the doorknob, twisting, and then the slam of a weight crushed him into the wood so that all the air left his lungs and he saw flashes of red and black. His hands on the doorknob kept him from collapsing that instant, but they stood no chance as the pirate captain clasped both his fists together and slammed them into the center of Lovino's back.

Knees buckled and the young man went down with a choked cry. Agonizing fire spread across his back, flaming the nerves of his spine. He was on his elbows and knees, gasping, ears ringing so loud he nearly did not hear the Spaniard speak.

"Only the guilty turn their backs and run. Tell me, _mi Italiano_ , what have you to confess for?"

"Confess?" Lovino coughed, lifting his head up to look at the man looming over him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Your _crewmate_ ," Carriedo spat the word like poison. "He betrayed my goodwill. Do not think me dull in that I would not recall how you two exchanged words not too long ago."

Lovino swallowed a laden of fear that was rising from his bowels. "I have made no move to break my contract," he argued, trying not to tremble at the implication. "I had no clue what the fool planned until the moment his crime was announced!"

The green of Carriedo's eyes burned like acid. "You expect me to believe that you would not take the first opportunity to run?" he asked lowly. His lips twisted into a horrifying smile, made more grotesque by the hostility in his eyes. "Did you enjoy your time with me so much that you would turn away from your comrade?" He reached down, and ran the back of his knuckles along Lovino's jaw. "Perhaps I was wrong to make you wait so long, for surely one night would not have been enough to satiate an appetite of one so young?"

 _Oh God_. Lovino slapped the hand away. " _Don't_."

"None of that," the man had the audacity to laugh. "I was gentle that time," his voice lowered a decibel, becoming deep and sultry and every bit of a seducing devil, beautiful to behold even when spouting such filth from his lips. His hand dropped, reaching. "Remember how I made you come? My hand stroking you to completion, and how obediently you cried? I can do that for you again. I can make it feel good. Just be a good boy…a sweet boy for me tonight, yes?"

Lovino shrank away from him, and when the hand continued to seek his trousers, he grasped the wrist and sank his nails in. He was frightened, oh how frightened he was. But he would not let this man have an easy time with him. He would not cry tears like a woman about to be despoiled. He was a man, and would endure this torture like a man.

"I will kill you," he snarled, proud that though his words shook with fear they were firm and clear. "Touch me, and I will kill you."

And again, Lovino found himself watching Carriedo's eyes, such a beautiful green yet so contorted with venom. He had made his decision. He would not be a balm to whatever poison that twisted this man's psyche. He would not be Berwald's Tino. Would not allow a man to touch him, even in tenderness.

Better violence than false touches of gentleness.

They stared at each other, Lovino firm in his resistance, and the pirate Captain with growing anger at the defiance.

"I said before," the man spoke, "I would take what I wanted from you."

"You're _captain_ ," Lovino spat. "Every man on this ship would gladly hand me to you if you asked." Berwald did. Tino did. De Kaizer did.

Carriedo yanked his wrist free from Lovino, reaching to the back of his neck and tangling his fingers into the soft hairs there. "Not Harris White," he said. "He would have taken you with him if he had the chance."

When Lovino swallowed, it was thick with despair. "I never gave him the chance."

This made the pirate tilt his head slightly to the side. His twisted features slackening in curiosity. "Why didn't you give it to him?"

"Because," Lovino looked the man straight in the eye, "I wouldn't be alive now if I had."

Something flickered across the other man's face, unfathomable and impenetrable. Next he pulled at Lovino's hair, forcing the Italian to get to his feet.

"Enough."

He shoved forward, forcing Lovino to stumble right into the table, his hands slamming forward to catch himself atop the maps. Lovino tried to turn but once again the pirate grabbed him by the hair and shoved his head viciously down so he was bent over, while at the same time the other hand reached for the top of his trousers and yanked down.

" _Stop_! Don't _touch_ me!" Lovino yelled out at the top of his lungs. He placed his hands to his sides and tried to push up to no avail. His legs kick out but became tangled in his pants. Terror at the memory of pain nearly crippled his struggles as the pirate stepped on the pants to aid in completely removing them, but Lovino remembered his conviction and bit his lip to swallow a sob.

None of that. This was inevitable. He would take it like a man.

There were no fleeting touches this time, no horrible seduction or gentle cajoling. Lovino had heard drunk men speak of 'fucking' which was different from 'sex' and the opposite of 'love making'. He had not understood the difference then – how naive he had been.

Carriedo fucked him. Held him firmly down by the hair on his map-strewed table. Used his own spit on his fingers before shoving them roughly into Lovino's anus. There were no words exchanged, even when Lovino cried out in pain at the penetration, even when Lovino fought to dislodge the man by kicking and attempting to hit him by swinging his arms back.

Carriedo fucked him. Shoving his dick in with a low grunt, pressing his whole weight down on Lovino to keep him still as he thrashed for freedom. He did not wait to allow Lovino to adjust to his invasive size. Instead the pirate managed to curl an arm beneath the young man's thigh and pulled it up so the knee became trapped on the table, giving the pirate easier access to thrust deeper.

Lovino bit into his arm to stop his cries. Keeping his eyes shut in fear of the tears that would surely leak out. With every painful thrust he found himself shoved more onto the table so that his toes barely touched the floor. He kept on arm over his face to bite and block, while the other hand gripped into the table to try to hold himself steady as the brutish pirate continued to shove into him unheedingly.

It was agony but different than the first time. The pain was there, the shame still the same but with none of that paralyzing devastation that had threatened to send Lovino to madness before. He had been so terrified, but now more than that was anger that had been simmering below the surface since that first night.

How _dare_ this man do this to him.

It was over quickly – thankfully for it felt like he would be pounded through the table. When Carriedo withdrew with a painful burn, Lovino let his knees fold beneath him as he sank down to the floor, trembling in agony, and forcing his burning eyes to stay the tears that threatened to spill. Carriedo cleaned himself off with a cloth and then wordlessly dropped it over the young Italian's legs. He was unable to look up at the man as he wiped both semen and blood dripping from his rear and down the insides of his legs, making him swallow the utter revulsion. Beside him, lying just as broken was the compass, most likely thrown at some type of imagined crime. Effective at one point but now rendered useless after the abuse shattered it to pieces.

Again.

Twice now this wretched devil of a man had deemed to take what he wanted without a thought of the damages. Lovino was nothing better than a whore to the man…even lowly for at least whores were paid for allowing such debauchery! He was an object, a thing, a claimed prize, property of the ship and the captain to do as he pleased. Break him. Mend him. Kill him. Save him. Like God, with power over man's fate, Captain Carriedo lorded his power over Lovino.

He had _no_ right. He had no _right_!

"Captain," he called out, and when the pirate turned to him curiously, Lovino swiftly swept the broken compass up and launched it at the man.

This time his aim was true, metal catching Carriedo over the right brow, cutting skin and sending blood dripping down his temple. With a hoarse shout, Lovino launched himself at the reeling man's torso, sending them both crashing to the ground. Scrambling, even as the pirate grasped him by the shoulder, Lovino managed to straddle the man and took hold of his throat.

"Die!" he screamed as he squeezed the neck in between his hands. He could feel the flesh give beneath his clawing fingers, the fragile bones constricted. There was a pulse there vibrating through him, making him panic as he stared down at his tormentor and began to panic. "Die, just die! Stop moving and die!"

But Captain Carriedo did not die. He made a guttural sound in his chest, took hold of Lovino's grasping wrists and from behind kicked his knee, managing to completely unbalance the Italian man. Lovino was thrust forward, losing his hold to catch himself, and in that mere second the pirate was upon him, surging upwards and completely throwing him off. He was taken by the shirt and then backhanded so hard he felt his mouth fill with blood. And again, Carriedo's fist struck, this time at his temple and oh God it hurt so bad that he cried out, bringing both arms up to protect himself.

Carriedo would have none of that. He was completely silent as he stood up and dragged Lovino to his feet. He released Lovino, and just as the Italian peeked from the shelter of his arms, the pirate kicked forward at his gut. All air whooshed from him, and as his arms dropped to cradle his aching abdomen the man struck him again on the face. He stumbled and would have fallen, but was held again, and once more as soon as he got his footing was attacked, another kick followed by a punch.

Finally, with a cruel hand holding him up by the hair, Carriedo looked him up and down then asked, "Enough?"

His lips were cut, tongue bitten, a tooth felt loose. He could he feel his right eye beginning to swell, and his jaw felt unhinged. It hurt to breath.

' _Enough' he asked?_

Lovino spat onto the pirate's face in response. Blood tinged phlegm on a dark cheek.

Which made Carriedo smile.

The next instant Lovino was flat on the ground, head reeling and uncertain at what point and from where the _fuck_ the pirate had stuck him. He was seeing double, and in complete disorientation watched as the Carriedo opened the casement attached to the foot of the bed and empty it of his clothes. Shaking his head, Lovino rolled to his side trying to push himself up. He never got the chance, for suddenly the pirate was over him, ripping his shirt off.

Panicked Lovino crossed his arms to keep the last piece of clothing on him. But the cloth ripped from the back, his flailing arms manhandled out of the shreds of the sleeves, leaving him completely nude. He managed to croak in protest, a low moan unable to complete a full curse, before he was once again seized by the hair and hauled up. Lovino stumbled as he was yanked back, and cried out when his legs hit the edge of the casement, sending him stumbling ungainly into its open maw.

Confused, but suddenly petrified Lovino shouted out a strangled, "No!" Before the lid was slammed shut and blanketed him in darkness. There was a click of the lock, and his hands flew up to hit the lid, legs twisted uncomfortably from where he had been thrown, unable to stretch out.

 _No_.

Locked. Trapped. Like an object tucked away to be pulled out for another occasion.

No.

He would suffocate in here, crammed as he was. He couldn't move without splinters of wood scrapping into his bare skin. Couldn't even push up properly to stick his nose beside the keyhole to breath.

 _No_.

He would die. Surely he would die, discarded and forgotten. And he had to get out, he had to get OUT.

" _NO!"_

Lovino could not even recognize his screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) What Abel De Kaizer quoted right before executing Harris White is directly from Captain Edward Low's pirate articles that he forced his crew to sign. I did not make this stuff up!  
> 2) Pater Noster: "Our Father" in Latin. The beginning of the Lord's Prayer.
> 
> I have a tumblr account. I think that it might be a nice place for people who want to ask me things about this story (or any of my other neglected works) and to share common interests. I might also go off rambling on characterizations and other weird stuff.


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